


I’ve been walking with the cheese (that’s the queso)

by zimriya



Series: kindling [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha Mark Lee (NCT), Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Beta Suh Youngho | Johnny, Canon Compliant, Idiots in Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Misunderstandings, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: The problem is when he wakes up, Mark doesn’t know whose idea it was in the first place.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: kindling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573561
Comments: 36
Kudos: 220





	I’ve been walking with the cheese (that’s the queso)

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Hexmen. The pairing is all your fault.
> 
> Title from “Regular” by NCT 127.

The problem is when he wakes up, Mark doesn’t know whose idea it was in the first place. If he did, he could blame someone. Like, maybe he could yell at Jaehyun, who did this to him. Or if it turns out it was his idea, spend some quality time cursing himself out in front of a mirror. He could take it up a few generations and start cursing out all of their grandparents, even call up his brother and yell at _him_ for not preventing their parents from even giving birth to Mark—anything.

Mark would take _anything_.

Mark doesn’t know whose idea it was in the first place, has really only vague memories of the amount of alcohol that preceded the entire travesty to begin with (which to add insult to literal injury, was not a lot; Mark’s not even fucking legal to drink in the US and also Mark’s only been legal to drink in Korea for like ten months). It’s not even the day after—more like mere _hours_ after he and the rest of NCT 127 trundled back to their hotel from the AMAs to get shit-faced rather recklessly—but Mark has the horrifying feeling in his gut that he did something incredibly regretful the night before.

And like.

Mark has a hangover, but he’s only been legal to drink for ten months.

The more worrying thing Mark has, this lovely Los Angeles morning in October 2018, is a still-smarting bite right in the middle of his upper back. It aches, because Jaehyun had _not_ been gentle in the slightest, but then, he was drunker than Mark was. Which, again, wasn’t all that drunk, but still.

They were both inebriated enough that Jaehyun’s response to Mark’s totally joking, not at all serious, alcohol-induced exclamation of, “Our Jaehyunnie-hyung, my soulmate for one more year. So cute. You’re not my real soulmate, though. Wouldn’t it be funny if we really were?” was to tackle him onto the bed and ask him, quite seriously, “where do you want it?”

And, well, it turns out Mark _does_ remember whose fault it was. It was his fault. He was the one who’d said the thing. Although in Mark’s defense, what sober person would have taken that as an invitation?

To Jaehyun’s credit, Mark did take off his shirt pretty fucking immediately when prompted, which sent them both into uncontrollable giggles so loud Mark was actually worried Yuta-hyung would come back from where he was bothering Johnny and Sicheng-hyung and throw Mark out, drunk or not. Mark also rolled over pretty instantly when prompted, although that was probably more to do with the fact that Jaehyun—SM Pretty Boy Jeong Jaehyun—was looming over him with alcohol coloring his cheeks and mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Roll over,” he’d said. “I can’t look at you while I do this.”

Mark fucking had, still laughing, and Jaehyun took a… a… _chomp_ out of him.

Mark took a chomp right back out of him, but Mark’s not thinking about that. Mark’s having an out of body experience.

He shifts in the bed and stares up at the dull, grey rock ceiling. He wonders if he could just wish for death instead of a transatlantic flight back to Seoul in time for _Music Bank_ filming on the twelfth. He sighs.

In the bed across the room, Taeyong-hyung remains motionless under a mountain of pillows. Mark’s memory of how he got back to his room without getting a U-Know Yunho worthy talking to from their leader is even worse than his memory of the biting thing, but like. He supposes he ought to be grateful. At least their schedule is limited to posing around Los Angeles for Dispatch and getting final footage for their self-filmed MV; at least Mark doesn’t have to worry about performing on American television or failing to be a proper, untrained translator. Not for the first time, he’s almost annoyed how Jaehyun gets around having to do much of the same when he’s nearly fluent in English too, but he very quickly bites back the anger.

Mark’s grateful.

Mark’s happy NCT 127 is so successful that they’re currently in _America_.

Mark’s not thinking about Jaehyun, because that way lies more panic attacks.

“Ughh,” groans the lump in Taeyong-hyung’s bed suddenly, letting Mark know he’s not the only one who heard the blare of his alarm. “Mark-yah.”

Mark jumps despite himself, shifting so that he can approximate something of a stare towards Taeyong-hyung.

“Turn it off.”

Abruptly, Mark zones back in on his alarm tone, which is still going off. He scrambles in the sheets for his phone so he can swipe it off. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Hyung, sorry,” he says, in pointless English, because it’s not the most awful thing any one of them has done to another by a long shot, and also because Taeyong-hyung’s still not even visible under his bedding. “Uh, we should probably get up, though.”

Both of them need to shower, even though most of their day is going to be spent flying. They’ll have hair and makeup with Dispatch, but still. Mark’s mouth tastes foul, like something died in it, and not just his common sense. At least he doesn’t taste blood, or whatever. Mark’s not… he never was one of those people who researched mating bites, but he thinks that’s going too far—more vampiric and less soulmate. And like, Mark attended sex-ed with everyone else at his high school, but that was more about making sure you bought the right type of condoms for all the sex you were absolutely not supposed to be having, and less about the logistics of putting your mark on someone.

Not that… Mark’s put his mark on… someone… fuck.

Mark rolls over and makes like Taeyong-hyung, burying his face in the blankets and shouting as quietly as he can. Because the universe hates him, doing so makes the bite on his back twinge. Mark should give Taeyong-hyung first shower because Mark’s the almost baby. Mark should give Taeyong-hyung the shower because Mark most definitely didn’t take his usual one before bed, and he deserves to suffer in his uncleanliness for as long as possible simply for making the poor life choices that led him here.

Mark picks up his phone and puts on his glasses, stands so quickly he gets dizzy, and stumbles blindly towards the bathroom with a mumbled, “sorry, Hyung, bathroom,” in barely passable Korean. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Taeyong-hyung sitting up to squint at him, but all too quickly he’s safely behind the bathroom door, heart going what feels like a mile a minute.

“Fuck.” English cursing is so much easier when he’s like this, and Mark barely manages not to drop his phone in his haste to get to the sink. He stands with both palms on either side of the bowl, phone clanging onto the porcelain and making Mark wince. He does his best to breathe before looking up. It’s hard. Focusing on his reflection is even harder.

What greets him is not worthy of an on the street photoshoot, nor the high definition lenses of the fans who’ve been following them all the way across the world. The Mark Lee that stares back at him doesn’t look like he’s been drinking, but he does look like he’d rather be anywhere but here, in a hotel in Los Angeles having just attended the American Music Awards. This Mark Lee has dark circles under his eyes because he’s not wearing makeup, a shocking absence of color in both cheeks, and sweat breaking out on his temples.

Mark shuts his eyes.

“Mark-yah?” Taeyong-hyung sounds confused, but is still fully audible through the door.

Mark doesn’t know if he can bring himself to respond.

“Are you, um, alright?” Taeyong-hyung sounds awkward now. “You smell, um.” He breaks off, clearly not sure how to continue.

Mark inhales almost involuntarily, drawing in a great mouthful of his own distress. “I’m fine, Hyung!” he calls back to Taeyong-hyung, not at all choking on his own pheromones. “I just really had to pee!” He shuffles away from the sink and towards the toilet, glancing around helplessly, fully aware that in no way can he even begin to do so now. He does kind of have to pee, but he’ll have to do that after Taeyong-hyung showers. He’s going to give Taeyong-hyung the first shower, for sure.

With a wince, and a hope that Taeyong-hyung is still suitably half-asleep enough not to think too deeply about it, Mark flushes the toilet. Then he tugs his shirt over his head and grabs his phone off the counter.

He can hear Taeyong-hyung grumbling to himself, no doubt finally untangling from the blankets, but he can’t be bothered to care. Instead Mark spends the next few moments doing the world’s most awkward dance in front of the mirror with his phone camera. First he tries to see the bite in real time, and then, feeling significantly more foolish for not having done so to begin with, he takes a series of photos of his back. He can’t quite bring himself to look at his camera roll, however, because he’s too afraid of making the entire thing somehow even more real by seeing it. But twisting into a pretzel in front of a mirror just feels awkward, if not vain.

Mark’s going to have to look at the phone.

Mark’s going to have to unlock the phone, since the phone locked in the time it took for him to stop chasing his tail like some sort of hapless puppy. Mark likes his phone. His phone hasn’t betrayed him, like his former best friend and maybe probably soulmate—fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , that was a funny joke yesterday but now it’s not and Mark might just _scream_.

Mark unlocks his phone, feeling a little lightheaded, and then taps into his camera roll. On the screen, blown out with the full unnecessary force of his phone’s flash, is undoubtedly the imprint of Jaehyun’s teeth.

Mark swallows.

Maybe—maybe it’s just—he supposes it really just sort of looks like purple bruising, if not a little red in places, and like, Jaehyun did kind of break the skin. Mark has visceral déjà vu of the moment that happened, of how he’d gasped, shocked, and Jaehyun rolled off the bed laughing. Experience with pets and dancing injuries tells Mark he should grab a first aid kit off a manager, but he’s too busy trying to reconcile his new reality. Mark is… Mark has a soulmate.

Mark has a _soulmate_.

Mark’s soulmate is _Jaehyun._ Jaehyun-hyung. Jeong Jaehyun. Jeong Yuno. Mark’s bandmate, coworker, friend of nearly six years.

Jaehyun is Mark’s soulmate.

“Shit,” Mark says, unable to cope. He’s barely legal to drink in Korea, not legal to drink in the US, and as a rule, can’t date people for fear of ruining his career. Mark’s too busy to date people anyway, even if he wanted to, and he sure as heck wasn’t planning on going around biting people in a permanent, are-you-mine-forever? sort of way.

Of course, Mark has had that fantasy that his soulmate was one of the celebrities he knew as more than just famous people, but not his bandmate. Yeah, they were all family and yeah, he loved them all, but not in a permanent, _you’re-mine-forever_ sort of way. Not in a relationship sort of way. (Although, maybe he does, apparently, clearly, since the thing is on him, and so Mark must love Jaehyun at least a little bit… like that. Permanently. You’re mine forever. Fuck.)

But it’s fine. It’s all fine. Mark’s _fine_. Mark does love Jaehyun, obviously, and he _knows_ that. It’s just, he didn’t think he _loved_ Jaehyun. Not like that. Not like his parents love each other, or his brother and his girlfriend, or any of the married MCs when they go on variety shows. Not like Yunho-sunbaenim and Changmin-sunbaenim, or Kim Taehee-sunbaenim and Rain-sunbaenim. Mark just thought it was like finding a brother you never knew you had, because you were born on different continents.

Heck, Mark wasn’t even _sober_ when he claimed Jaehyun. What will his parents think? What will his—Mark swallows, panic only rising—what is his _mom_ going to say? Mark claimed someone. Mark got claimed by someone. Jaehyun _claimed_ him.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Mark’s got a claim mark on his back, in between his shoulder blades, too low to be covered by hair, if Mark was ever the type to grow his hair out that long, and completely ruining any and all chances of Mark getting to do a shirtless stage. Not that Mark wants to do one, but the point still stands.

Fuck.

Mark’s pretty sure he got Jaehyun in the same exact spot, the horrifying memory of his best friend giggling like some sort of pre-pubescent teenager and spouting off equally pre-pubescent flirting shit like, “harder,” and “I don’t think you’re doing it right,” and finally, “look, maybe just… suck on it. You’re really just kissing me, Mark-yah,” in a mix of both their languages.

Jaehyun’s definitely going to want to do shirtless stages.

Mark has ruined Jaehyun’s entire career.

Mark is—

Mark is handling it.

Mark has been in the bathroom for far too long, and Taeyong-hyung has clearly woken up enough to take issue with it.

“Mark-yah!” he shouts, from what sounds like right outside the bathroom door. He bangs on it a few times, three solid thunks that Mark swears he feels down to his marrow. “What are you even doing in there? You better not be throwing up. I’ll strangle Jaehyunnie—see if I don’t.”

This would normally be where Mark would jump to his soulmate’s defense, but the fact that Mark defaults to calling Jaehyun his “soulmate” without even thinking about it is enough to make him feel like he’s having some sort of allergic reaction, all shortness of breath and hopefully-not-real hives.

“Mark-yah!” Taeyong-hyung is having none of it; he can probably smell Mark’s panic and Mark can’t do more than fumble blindly for the air vent switch. The room hums to life, the air becoming much less uncomfortable. Mark wonders, not for the first time, if he ought to push to take another Jacobson’s test, but he tables the discussion for later. He had enough of the SM doctors when he debuted, and he hadn’t even presented then.

“I’m not—throwing up!” He sets down his phone, turns on the sink, and sticks both hands under the water. “Don’t kill Jaehyun-hyung!” he adds, because it feels like that’s the right thing to do now that they’re… soulmates? Oh God. Mark is going to die young, before they even get to go on tour in the US for real. For good measure, he splashes himself in the face with water a few times, and then turns off the tap. “I’ll be right out!”

Two minutes later and he’s dried his hands and his face, shoved his shirt back on probably backwards, and is unlocking the bathroom door.

Taeyong-hyung stands to the side and stares at him as he steps out, one brow slowly raising, but to his credit Mark lifts his head.

“What?” Somehow, he’s managing to keep his chin level, and he’s totally not blushing. His shirt is definitely on backwards.

“Uh, nothing.” Taeyong-hyung looks dubious. “Doyoungie texted. They want to go to the pool before the shoot.”

Mark nods. “Cool. Awesome. I love pools.”

Taeyong-hyung continues to stare at him, making no move to go into the bathroom.

Mark’s not going to mention that because Mark’s not an idiot. “Do you want the first shower?” says Mark’s mouth involuntarily, because the joke’s on him; he is an idiot.

“Yes.” Taeyong-hyung narrows his eyes, then flicks them down to look at Mark’s phone.

It’s lit up with a new KakaoTalk message, the notification sound ringing loud and clear in their hotel room. It’s Jaehyun, because Mark has no luck. `Mak-yah`, reads the message, all cute-like. Mark has to take a moment, he just has to take a moment. Jaehyun’s finished it up with, `good morning!` written in equally cute Konglish and then several kiss blowing emoji. Mark lowers the phone so fast he worries he’s going to drop it.

Taeyong-hyung is now blatantly staring between him and the phone. “Um,” he says.

“You go ahead and take the first shower, Hyung,” says Mark, semi-desperately, and then goes to paw nervously through all of his luggage in search of something to wear for their shoot. From what he vaguely remembers from Nari-noona’s schedule update the night before, they want them to use predominantly their own clothes—their own style—but Mark knows from experience that if he’s not up to snuff, a stylist will be available to help him look the part. He still spends an embarrassing amount of time weighing his shirt options.

* * *

Luckily, they don’t pair Mark one-on-one with Jaehyun for any of the day’s Dispatch shoot. He gets to wander around Los Angeles with mostly Donghyuck, Taeil-hyung, and Doyoung-hyung, and it’s fine. Mark did convince a manager to give him a first aid kit without it being too terribly awkward (it helped that he’d gone to Nari-noona, who was greener and much less judgmental than some of their older staff), but his back still kind of stings whenever he moves too quickly. Nobody would ever know because Mark is a goddamned professional, but not even one of his bandmates notice. None of them even seem to pick up on it—not even Donghyuck. The first thing Mark said to him when they gathered in the lobby that morning was, “do I smell different to you?” Donghyuck just sort of stared back at him with large, unreadable eyes, before wandering off to harass Taeil-hyung instead. He had not answered Mark’s question.

Mark should probably ask literally _anyone else_ , but he thinks if it was really apparent someone would have said something to him. Someone would have noticed and at least teased Mark about getting laid.

No one does, though, and before long they’re in the car heading to LAX for their flight home. It’s a long haul with no layovers, and Mark is looking forward to getting some much-needed shut eye. He’s not really looking forward to the jet lag, but he supposes he’s going to have to get used to it, once they go on tour in the US next year.

Mark is not handling having a soulmate with the most dignity in the world, but he likes to think nobody can tell. Of course, that’s panic-inducing in and of itself, because what does that mean? Surely someone should notice. Surely _Jaehyun_ should at least notice, but Jaehyun’s not acting any differently. He sits in silence on his phone most of the ride to the airport with his headphones in, hiding behind his mask. Mark’s got one on too (which is great; he can mostly smell his own anxiety on some sort of terrible feedback loop) and Mark’s fiddling with his phone as well, but two managers have pulled him aside and asked if he wants to borrow Jungwoo-hyung’s medicine. Clearly, he’s having a reaction.

Jaehyun doesn’t seem bothered, and Mark doesn’t know if he should be worried that he’s going crazy, or if he should feel hurt about it.

He takes the seat next to Donghyuck when they’re finally loaded onto the plane, pretends he doesn’t catch the glance Jaehyun shoots him on his way towards the remaining empty one next to Johnny, and poses for the photo Jihyo-hyung asks them for. He pulls off the mask and pulls out his headphones and fumbles open a packet of gum.

“Wake me when we’re home,” Donghyuck says, immediately shifting around to get comfortable.

Mark hums in response and closes his own eyes. The plane takes off. Mark listens to the groan of the wheels, feels the vibrations in his teeth, and chews the entire time it takes for them to level off. Evidently he’s not going to be sleeping, because Mark’s life is the worst.

Mark sighs, rolls his head around in the seat and stares pointlessly at the screen in front of him that’s very helpfully cycling through their trajectory on a map alongside information about their altitude in several languages. He looks around for something to do, and finds nothing.

What he should do is call his parents, but then, he can’t very well do that _now_. He’d wanted to call them the moment he woke up bitten, but he didn’t have time to bother them then, and he certainly won’t have time to bother them once they’re back in Seoul. Not with their comeback and MC-ing for _Music Core_. Flying around the world is really the only free time Mark has, but he can’t phone home thousands of feet in the air. Also, he has no idea what’d he’d even say.

He wonders if Jaehyun told his parents.

It’s easy enough to sneak looks at Jaehyun, who’s already sleeping with his AirPods in. Mark maybe catches Johnny glancing curiously in between them a few times, but Mark just smiles a little forcedly at him, and that seems to appease him. Johnny retreats into his music and Mark retreats back into staring surreptitiously at his soulmate; it’s, uh, not par the course, but not that weird?

They stare at each other all the time, though granted it’s usually with the purpose of matching choreography or offering fashion consultation. Jaehyun’s sleeping and Mark’s been around him plenty enough that looking at him isn’t weird, but somehow it feels more charged now. Mark’s brain just won’t stop buzzing. Maybe he should watch a movie. The change in time zones means Mark really should sleep, since they’ll be landing in Seoul close to one a.m., and then they have to be at KBS before eight.

Mark can’t sleep.

Mark can’t stop staring at Jaehyun’s profile, dumb brain turning over every instance he’s ever wished he had the man’s perfect complexion and trying to figure out if it was unfulfilled… longing, or whatever, and not just beauty-standard-induced jealousy.

Mark isn’t nervous about their first stage, but he likes that he has an excuse for smelling like a pre-debut newbie. Donghyuck’s out cold and snoring, but he shifts in his seat in a way that somehow manages to make Mark feel guilty and lick nervously at his lips.

He stares at Jaehyun some more, since that’s bound to help. Mark supposes Jaehyun is objectively the most attractive member of NCT 127. Or… not objectively. Mark supposes he’s not objective anymore, which is horrifying. It’s not like they go around complimenting each other but it’s not like they’re not aware that they’re all at least a little good looking. Jaehyun, Taeyong-hyung, and Sicheng-hyung got picked off the street, and the rest of them were impressive enough to get picked after their auditions. Mark thinks you have to be at least a little arrogant to want to be famous. Mark’s digressed. The point is, Jaehyun’s attractive and Jaehyun knows he’s attractive and Mark knows he’s attractive but now there’s this whole other edge to it where apparently the universe decided Jaehyun was _it_ for Mark, so all that thinking they were like family and shared a brain wasn’t platonic at all. All those times Mark wanted Jaehyun’s abs or his work ethic. And… fuck. Mark’s even more wired now.

He’s running through every little thing about Jaehyun he’s admired, all the things he took for granted. Jaehyun’s always been his hyung, when he was the baby for everyone else. They shared two languages and taught each other, Mark helping Jaehyun with the more difficult pronunciations and Jaehyun helping Mark learn grammar period. They sang the same songs, liked the same bands—they were soulmates, but not… _soulmates_ … and Mark doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Like clockwork, the bite on his back itches something fierce, and he shifts around on the seat trying not to rub against it like some sort of bear.

He thinks about the interviews where he joked about them being soulmates. He thinks about the interviews where he regretted saying they were soulmates. He thinks about _Idol Room_ , which is going to air this week, where Jungwoo-hyung and Jaehyun competed with Doyoung-hyung to see who really was Mark’s one and only. Jaehyun won and it was funny but now it’s less funny and Mark is a fucking _mess_ about it. Everything runs together in Mark’s brain until Donghyuck is furrowing his brow even in sleep.

Mark sniffs himself surreptitiously, then has to cough frantically for like three minutes with absolutely zero dignity. He’s always scored higher than his all-beta family on Jacobson’s tests, and higher than at least Johnny and Sicheng-hyung within NCT. He doesn’t know where he stands against the other alphas in the band—not really, at least; Taeyong-hyung’s not extra sensitive but he is extra present to the point where his designation is like the world’s worst kept secret within showbiz—but it’s high enough that sometimes he won’t laugh properly at jokes in interviews.

Even if Mark was as good as scent blind, he thinks he’d be able to smell his anxiety.

From the seat behind him, Byoungjun-hyung not so subtly leans forward to ask if Mark needs some Cheongshimhwan for the second time that morning.

Mark feels heat bloom high on both cheeks.

He’s being absurd. He shakes his head and ends up in a loose approximation of a bow. “No, I’m fine, thanks, Hyung,” he tells Byoungjun-hyung, and their manager retreats in his seat with a dubious expression.

Mark faces ahead and spends a few moments becoming intimately familiar with the path their plane is taking to get them back to Seoul, and how high they are currently flying. But then he can’t help but check in with Jaehyun again, so he risks a glance.

He doesn’t make eye contact with Johnny this time.

He makes eye contact with Jaehyun.

Mark’s life is the literal worst.

It’s not like Jaehyun’s doing anything odd—not like Mark, at least. He looks sleepy and curious and like he’s not sure why he’s awake. He cocks his head to one side in an almost question when Mark meets his eyes. It’s like he’s asking if Mark’s the reason he’s awake, if Mark’s the one boring holes in him with his eyes. His lips quirk like he’s going to give Mark hell for it, but Mark’s too busy panicking about other things to notice. What if Mark _is_ the reason Jaehyun is awake. Like, he didn’t speak all that loudly to Byoungjun-hyung, but maybe Jaehyun heard. Jaehyun’s always been a notoriously light sleeper, and was even when he and Mark shared a room. But the plane makes a constant hum in the background and Jaehyun still has his AirPods in; Mark thinks it’s more likely—worries it’s more likely—that Jaehyun caught wind of Mark’s panic by… some sort of soulmate telepathy.

Of course, can that even happen? Mark knows better than to trust most drama representations, but he’s pretty sure he has childhood memories of his parents communicating silently. And he and Jaehyun are always singing the same song at the same time and stuff—that’s what got them the soulmate nickname to begin with. If anyone was going to end up with unrealistic telepathy, it would be Mark and Jaehyun. It might not even be unrealistic. Like, who knew what sort of shit happened when people bonded. Like… circadian rhythms syncing up and all that. It could happen. Mark and Jaehyun could totally be patient zero.

It’s horrifying.

Mark’s spent the twenty minutes they’ve been airborne acting like his entire world has ended and also thinking horrible, terrible things. He doesn’t want Jaehyun to have heard them. What if he’s upset?

Jaehyun doesn’t look upset. He hasn’t tried to go back to sleep and is still eyeing Mark curiously, but his eyelids are drooping and Mark isn’t getting an understanding vibe from him at all. Also shouldn’t Mark be hearing Jaehyun’s thoughts too, if telepathy were the case? He squints, unable to stop himself from concentrating really freaking hard, and stares at Jaehyun.

Nothing.

Just Mark’s own scattered and increasingly loud thoughts, circling in an unfortunate figure eight until he’s thinking shit like, _Don’t forget to breathe_.

Jaehyun yawns.

Mark yawns.

Mark feels sweat break out on his brow.

Byoungjun-hyung leans forward in his seat again. “Mark-yah.”

“I’m fine, Hyung,” manages Mark, not looking away from Jaehyun. He’s gone back to sleep. He has really pretty eyelashes. Mark would like to die.

“Seriously, we brought a whole bottle for Jungwoo—”

Maybe Mark should take Byoungjun-hyung up on that. Maybe medication would help. Maybe the reason Jaehyun’s suddenly frowning in his sleep is because he can still hear Mark thinking and or talking and it’s waking him up, oh God, oh fuck, Mark is the literal worst soulmate _ever_.

He waves Byoungjun-hyung off again but does mumble how he wouldn’t mind some water, and very quickly Byoungjun-hyung is waving down a flight attendant.

Mark inhales the liquid before she’s even taken two steps away, but smiles and does his best to look totally fine when she stares at him with surprise.

“Would you like more?” she asks him in English, tone odd.

Mark swallows and lowers the cup. “No thank you, thank you,” he replies, also in English.

The woman nods, still looking a little taken aback, and Mark has to bite his tongue to keep from asking her dumb shit like, “Hey, you’re clearly a mated alpha—do I smell like I drunkenly claimed my soulmate last night?”

The flight attendant walks away, heels thudding softly down the aisle. Mark puts down the plastic cup and gasps loudly into the recycled air. He feels faint. He still feels thirsty. Has he always been this thirsty? Is it—Mark gulps for air this time—Jaehyun-hyung’s _eyelashes_? Does Mark have a thing for Jaehyun-hyung’s eyelashes? Maybe it’s just eyelashes in general. Mark thinks frantically about everyone he’s ever had a crush on—the betas from when he thought he was going to be a beta, the omegas from after he popped his first knot in the middle of “Trigger the Fever” promotions for the World Cup. Mark doesn’t remember ever being into eyelashes before. But he—like, Jaehyun—and the thirst—Mark is so thirsty, Mark really should get more water—

“Mark-hyung,” comes Donghyuck’s voice suddenly. “Please breathe.” His tone is mild but brooks no argument and when Mark looks at him, he sees that Donghyuck’s still got his eyes closed. “Go to the bathroom or something,” he continues. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Mark winces, guilty and feeling like he’s a little kid all over again, when he wasn’t used to keeping a damper on his emotions and kept broadcasting them for the entire world to smell. Mark is nineteen-years-old—twenty in Korea—and he’s been keeping his feelings to himself for years. He’s had extensive media training.

What an awful hyung he must be, to forget all of that and give Donghyuck a headache.

Donghyuck.

 _Donghyuck_.

Donghyuck—

Mark blinks, heart rate picking up again, but this time not in panic.

Donghyuck furrows his brow miserably and peels his eyes open. “Mark-hyung, why?” he groans, but Mark’s not paying attention.

He’s too excited, ideas spinning together like popcorn popping in his brain. Donghyuck is Jaehyun’s roommate. Mark can _use_ this. Mark needs to first verify that Mark is also Jaehyun’s soulmate, and clearly, he can’t just ask him. First of all, that would be so awkward (what’s Mark going to do—ask Jaehyun to take his shirt off? Ask to take Jaehyun’s shirt off? Take Jaehyun’s shirt off? Corner Jaehyun when he’s on his way to the shower with his shirt already off?) and second of all, how rude. What would it say if Mark had to ask his soulmate if Mark was his soulmate too? Like, does that sort of unrequited stuff happen outside of the movies? Wouldn’t Jaehyun be offended that Mark had the gall to doubt his affections?

No.

Mark can’t just ask him.

Mark has to enlist help from Lee Donghyuck, Jaehyun’s roommate.

Mark swallows. He’s got this.

Donghyuck is squinting at him with nothing but suspicion in his eyes. “Mark-hyung,” he says. He really looks like an eighteen-year-old baby, even though that’s only one year younger than Mark. Donghyuck presented a full year earlier than Mark did, and ended up shuffled around the dorm from Taeyong-hyung to Mark to Doyoung-hyung to finally Jaehyun-hyung. Donghyuck does his best to always remind them he’s more than just their omega baby.

Mark inhales. “I need you to hit Jaehyun-hyung for me,” he blurts out, doing his best to whisper.

Donghyuck’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did you just say you need me to put a hit out on Jaehyun-hyung?”

Mark stares at him, brain running around like a mouse in a wheel. “You—what—” He thinks that was a pun—an English pun—but it wasn’t in English, and Mark’s mastery of the Korean language didn’t exactly immediately bring to mind the word “assassination,” that extremely popular 2015 film notwithstanding. “No,” Mark decides finally. “I need you to hit Jaehyun-hyung on the back for me.” He smacks the air a few times to further clarify.

Donghyuck is still looking at him oddly. “Jaehyunnie-hyung,” he says, tipping his head towards the man in question. “You need me to hit Jaehyunnie-hyung.” Donghyuck copies Mark’s mime, but adds a whip sound because he’s an asshole who still likes to pull up footage of Mark and Taeyong-hyung getting ambushed into explaining the lyrics to “Whiplash” at the Cherry Bomb Showcase.

“I will pay you,” Mark says before Donghyuck can even begin to tease him. “Please.” He puts on his most winning smile.

The indecision is clear as day on Donghyuck’s face, but finally the prospect of free money wins out. “Deal,” he says, and sticks a hand out for Mark to shake. He pulls the moment he has Mark in his grasp. “Now, how much are we talking?”

Mark gets the sense that he won’t be getting his hand back until he agrees to front Donghyuck the Korean equivalent of at least twenty dollars. “But you can’t do it in public,” Mark says, once he’s haggled his hand free. “Or make it obvious.” Mark can only imagine how embarrassing it would be for Jaehyun to have his claim mark slapped in public, surrounded by the fans waiting for them at Incheon. He can’t imagine what it’d be like to have it touched on this plane, surrounded by the fans pretending not to follow them to Incheon.

No.

If Mark’s out twenty bucks, Donghyuck is going to exercise restraint and follow Mark’s instructions to the letter.

“And, uh, not really hard. Just like… pat him—”

“Yes, I know how to hit someone on the back, Mark-hyung,” says Donghyuck with his nose in the air. “My money?”

Mark hates that traveling with an entourage has made it so that he’s not automatically exchanging currency whenever he changes continents. He pulls out the correct amount of won and sighs.

Like some sort of avenging, precognizant angel, Taeyong-hyung emerges from the mist that is the row in front of them to stare at them both furiously.

“Mark-hyung was just holding my money for me,” Donghyuck says prettily, putting the bills away before Taeyong-hyung can do more than stare. “You know how I’m always forgetting my wallet,” Donghyuck finishes, the picture of innocence.

Taeyong-hyung immediately turns to stare rather menacingly at Mark, who hates his life even more.

“Yah, Donghyuck-ah.”

Donghyuck just looks smug.

Mark smiles.

Taeyong-hyung levels them one last, distrustful look, before turning to face forward again. Mark takes the opportunity to try out some pre-show calming exercises.

“So why am I hitting Jaehyunnie?” Donghyuck says loudly from right next to Mark’s ear.

Mark jumps and turns to glare at his seatmate. “Jaehyun-hyung,” he corrects. It’s the right thing to do. It’s not like Mark wouldn’t have totally pointed it out before now—it’s not some sort of… protective soulmate thing, or whatever. Mark licks his lips nervously.

“Jaehyunnie-hyung.” It’s a testament to how much Donghyuck must want an answer that he doesn’t argue. “Well?”

Mark can’t even begin to explain. “Do I need a reason—do you need a reason to hit Hyung and get money out of it?”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “Hitting is wrong.”

Mark smiles prettily. “So is extortion,” he replies.

Donghyuck sits back heavily in his seat, cheeks gone pink like they sometimes do when 127 are exchanging barbs, or when he’s tired, or they’ve had a long shoot, or someone’s forgotten to douse themselves in scent blockers. He flushes like he does simply because his bandmates are predominantly alphas, and he’s biologically predisposed to be into the pheromones they put out.

Mark finds himself opening his mouth equally involuntarily, before Donghyuck reaches over the arm of Mark’s seat, picks up Mark’s empty plastic cup, and throws it at him. “Gross, Mark-hyung,” he snaps. He crosses his arms and scowls, ears bright red.

Mark thinks about what it was like in Dream, what it’s like sometimes in 127, and feels incredibly guilty. He raises both hands. “Sorry—sorry—”

Donghyuck is still glowering, still smelling involuntarily into Mark—and Mark picks up his discarded face mask and pulls it on. Fuck. He hasn’t done that since he and Donghyuck stopped rooming together. Not since Mark traded in lack of finesse for an actual adult ability to control himself and not throw pheromones around like some sort of inconsiderate asshole. Mark feels bad. Mark thinks he must really be Jaehyun’s soulmate, because why else would his self-control be so shot to utter shit this evening.

“Sorry, Donghyuckie, sorry,” he says again.

Donghyuck looks less like he wants to strangle Mark, and more like he won’t make Mark sit next to Jaehyun for the rest of the plane ride. He’s done it before, switched places with someone so he can hide behind Taeil-hyung or Johnny or even Sicheng-hyung—there’s a reason his favorites are all betas. Mark is it the literal worst friend on the planet. He forks over another bill.

“Here.”

Donghyuck stares at it, clearly shocked at Mark’s sudden charity, and torn between giving him grief or just taking the gift. “Mark-hyung,” he says finally, making the money disappear where the rest had gone. “What the fuck?”

“Look.” Mark leans closer and lowers his voice, glancing once more toward Jaehyun and Johnny. Jaehyun’s still sleeping but Johnny is frowning at Mark and Donghyuck, mouth turned down in an almost-pout, and for some reason it makes Mark’s cheeks burn. “Jaehyun-hyung and I did—something.” He shoots Donghyuck a sharp look to cut off any questioning. “And I need you not to ask questions and just pat him on the back a few times.”

Donghyuck looks at him unblinkingly.

Mark shifts nervously in his seat, fighting the urge to touch the bite on his own back. “Between the shoulder blades,” he adds after a pause. “Please.”

Donghyuck looks like he wants to say so many things but doesn’t because sometimes he knows better than to be the evil maknae. “Okay,” is all he says.

“Thank you,” Mark says in English, and finally manages to relax.

But then—

“Not—”

“In front of the fans, yes, Mark-hyung, I’m not deaf,” Donghyuck says loudly, getting them a glance from Yuta-hyung and Sicheng-hyung, who also sitting in the row in front of them with Taeyong-hyung.

Mark smiles winningly at them until they turn back to their phones. “Look, it’s important just—promise me,” Mark tells Donghyuck, who sticks a hand out so they can link pinkies.

Donghyuck is actually remarkably subtle about it—the first time being a very casual hand around Jaehyun’s shoulders when they’re waiting for their turn to get off the plane. Jaehyun smiles and rubs at the corner of his mouth, but also sidesteps the half-hug, dimpling cutely. Donghyuck shoots Mark a look, but otherwise remains perfectly calm, no doubt preparing for his next plan of attack when they’re all driving to the dorm.

Mark nearly falls over when he realizes Jaehyun is likely avoiding being touched there, and spends the time it takes for Jaehyun to shuffle into his backpack with his thoughts whirring. Maybe Jaehyun’s just stiff from the plane, though. Mark shouldn’t assume it’s more than that.

Mark should wait for Donghyuck to get him some more conclusive evidence.

Mark somehow does, but then Mark has to deal with the fact that Jaehyun full on winces when he gets slapped heartily right in between the shoulder blades, has to watch him pull away from the point of contact with a frown.

“Full Sun,” he breathes, not quite rubbing at the spot but still shooting Mark a barely noticeable little glance in the meantime.

“Sorry, Jaehyunnie-hyung. There was a mosquito,” Donghyuck says, which is a reasonable enough excuse. The dorm has been semi overrun—the fans even know.

Mark’s too busy trying not to frantically mouth-breathe about the eye contact he and Jaehyun just exchanged. Jaehyun for sure looked at Mark, smirked at him before he started scolding Donghyuck. Mark has no idea what that even _means_ , and now Mark is even more confused.

“Mark-yah?” That’s Doyoung-hyung from behind Mark, heaving his suitcase.

Mark jumps and walks as quickly as possible towards room 104.

It’s fine.

So Jaehyun at least remembers and has a mark too. That’s fine.

* * *

It’s actually awful. Jaehyun, despite being aware and being—bruised, bitten, claimed, _claimed too—_ marked doesn’t seem to be acting any differently like _at all_ , and it’s messing with Mark’s head. He’s got some of the worst jet lag he’s ever experienced and is busy prepping for both his MC gig for _Music Core_ and their comeback, so he doesn’t really have the time to be freaked out about it, but he is.

Jaehyun has to compliment him for their in-studio _Music Core_ interview the literal day after they’ve arrived back in Seoul, and Mark’s not sure how he survives. They’ve been back for barely thirty-one hours. There is a tragic amount of clothes-fidgeting. Ultimately Mark thinks it’s not all that noticeable and he holds it together—he and Jaehyun bro-hug and it’s fine—but as they head back to their dressing room, Jaehyun shoots him a look.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks with honest curiosity.

 _What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?_ Mark thinks desperately. _We’re soulmates! Why haven’t you said anything about it?_ “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Mark instead. He laughs, loud and obnoxious, and tries to walk faster without being too obvious. Unfortunately, Jaehyun matches his stride without appearing to even think about it, and Mark wants to curse under his breath. Of course he’s not thinking about it; he and Mark are freaking soulmates.

“O—kay.” Jaehyun looks like he’s worried about Mark’s sanity but is too good of a soulmate to say anything. “So, do you think we’ll win?”

“I always think we’ll win,” Mark lies desperately. “I never do anything without thinking I’m going to succeed.” He makes a loose approximation of a fist in the air in front of them, so relieved to see their dressing room door. He pulls it open.

Jaehyun follows him inside the room, pausing to hold the door for Sicheng-hyung. “How American of you,” he says in English.

Mark somehow manages to smile. “Oi,” he says. “That’s Canadian to you.”

Jaehyun dimples happily at him. “Yeah, okay, Mark-yah.”

Mark has always liked how his members say his name in Korean, but now he’s questioning if he’s always liked it from Jaehyun most of all. If he’s always liked it from Jaehyun this much. He doesn’t _think_ he likes it any more than when Taeyong-hyung says it, or Doyoung-hyung. But… maybe?

This is horrible. Mark can’t continue like this.

Jaehyun shoots him one last smile, before heading to grab his AirPods out of his bag.

Mark stares after him helplessly. What’s that song? “I Hate to See You Go But I Love to Watch You Leave?” Is that Mark’s new theme song, now? Is Jaehyun’s… back view particularly exciting? Is this what love is? Is Mark broken?

Mark doesn’t know. He chews helplessly on the inside of his mouth.

Donghyuck wanders by him with narrowed eyes, silent and judging. Then he approaches Jaehyun, clapping a hand around his shoulder and, with one furtive look back at Mark, starts full on feeling him up between the shoulder blades. “Jaehyunnie-hyung,” he whines. “Buy me food.”

Mark doesn’t pay attention to Jaehyun’s response, too stuck on the fact that unlike when they got back to their dorm and Donghyuck thwacked him on the back yesterday, Jaehyun doesn’t seem all that bothered by the massage today. He does eventually extricate himself from Donghyuck’s clutches, but that could just be his usual aversion to extra-stifling skinship he hasn’t initiated.

Mark has absolutely no idea what to take away from any of this. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Hey, Mark.” That’s Johnny, speaking English right next to Mark, and Mark wheels to face him so quickly he nearly falls. Johnny reaches out a hand to steady him, and Mark flushes with embarrassment despite himself.

“Sorry, hyung,” comes out of his mouth in Korean.

Johnny continues to look at him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Mark manages, voice very high.

Jaheyun’s laughing at something Sicheng-hyung deadpanned and Mark doesn’t feel anything more than usual, but what the heck does Mark know?

“I’m so fine, Johnny-hyung,” says Mark.

Johnny is looking at Mark like he’s an animal in a zoo. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Because you look… kind of pale,” he ends up saying, sounding like he had to think about it.

“I’m just nervous about our comeback stage,” Mark says. He’s trying his hardest to seem completely normal. They haven’t done the pre-recording yet, and a stylist is already fussing with Taeil-hyung’s hair, hemming and hawing over putting it off his face for both performances. Mark’s got on a shirt with a frilled collar and it itches something fierce. “I’m so nervous,” Mark says again.

Johnny doesn’t look like he believes him, but he’s the nicest of all of Mark’s bandmates at the moment, because he doesn’t push it. “Me too, kind of,” he says. “I’m worried I’ll sing in English.”

Mark laughs automatically. “The fans would love that,” he says. “And you shouldn’t worry. MBC won’t let you get away with that.”

Johnny smiles back at Mark and Mark feels his tension finally start to ease. “Hey, what do you mean ‘let me get away with it’? It wouldn’t be on purpose.”

Mark nods. “Right, of course, Hyung.”

Johnny shoves him playfully. Mark goes where moved, grinning. “But you’re sure you’re okay?” Johnny looks serious again. “You smelled weird on the plane.”

Mark feels the back of his neck flush underneath all the foundation. Great. He was putting off stress-pheromones so strongly that even Johnny noticed. Other than Ten, Johnny’s like the most scent blind member of NCT, and half the time Mark thinks Ten is faking it a little. How bad must Mark have been for Johnny to notice? Although, Johnny’s always been more sensitive to NCT 127.

“I’m fine, thanks, though,” Mark tells Johnny in English, and gets a look from Doyoung-hyung, who hates it the most when he can’t understand. Mark blinks. “Actually,” he says, still in English, and Johnny looks at him curiously. “I’m—” _T_ _oo much of a coward to finish that_ _sentence_ , Mark thinks. “Fine,” he finishes lamely. He smiles one more time before going to stand with Taeyong-hyung, who’s been practicing their choreography.

Taeyong-hyung tips his head in question as well, but lets Mark pretend he’s confused about the subtle differences between chorus one and chorus two.

* * *

Mark only gets worse. He absolutely passes out the day before _Weekly Idol_ filming without even taking a shower and all of NCT 127 won’t let him live it down. They talk about it in detail while filming their live show; talk about Mark farting in great detail while filming _their live show_. Mark positions himself with Jungwoo-hyung in between him and Jaehyun like a physical barrier, yet still finds himself engaging and touching Jaehyun. Mark is a professional. Mark is a mess.

It’s nearing midnight, _Night Night_ is one of the pre-recorded episodes with Hyoyeon-noona that Johnny and Jaehyun did before they flew to Los Angeles, Jaehyun and Johnny are in the living room listening and monitoring comments in real time with Doyoung-hyung, and Mark is alone with his phone and his thoughts. It’s easy enough to search stuff on Twitter, to look at the fan reactions to _Idol Room_ , where Mark and Jaehyun held hands; Mark and Jaehyun peeled fruit; Mark and Jaehyun renewed their soulmate vows for one more year. It’s easy to read comments on their spontaneous and unnamed live show. Jaehyun is leading for next MC and Mark’s love triangle with Jungwoo-hyung is still managing to make people laugh.

Two days ago, someone shared that time Jaehyun talked about having an outie belly button on _Night Night_ , and a portion of the fandom still seems to be very distraught about this. Mark has no idea why. Mark knew this. Their fans knew this. Doyoung-hyung put that out there their very first _broadcast_ , and everything Taeyong-hyung said that day was far worse.

From what Mark has gathered whenever he goes out to grab water or use the bathroom, Johnny had to do the punishment for tonight’s episode, but Jaehyun took a selfie on Snow anyway as a cat. They haven’t let anyone see it because “spoilers,” but Mark’s near a hundred percent certain the fans will lose their minds about cat Jaehyun as well.

Mark isn’t.

Mark must be fucking _broken_.

Mark calls his mom, even though it’s nearly midnight. It goes… well, not _well_ , but not badly.

Mark says, “Mom, I think I found my soulmate,” and whatever greetings his mother had for him taper off.

Mark’s mom says, “Oh, congratulations, honey—”

“It’s Jaehyun-hyung,” Mark interrupts, even though he has better manners. “Only he’s not acting any differently and my bite’s well… weird. I’m using cream on it and everything. Well. Korean brand cream. Who knew it was so hard to find antibiotic cream in Korea—”

“Mark, honey, slow down. You’re speaking Korean,” Mark’s mom says, also in Korean, but sounding amused. “From the beginning—”

“Jaehyun-hyung’s my soulmate but I think there’s something wrong with my bite,” blurts Mark.

His mother pauses. “Jaehyun,” she says finally. “That’s the one with the pink hair?”

“Not right now,” Mark says, since he’s learned better than to say “never” with regards to their hair color. “It’s purple and you know who Jaehyun is, Mom, please.” Mark is aware that lying in his bed fully clothed and whining into his phone to his mother isn’t the most dignified thing he could be doing but doesn’t care. He’s having a crisis. He is allowed.

His mom sounds like she’s smiling. “I do,” she says. “Congratulations, baby. He’s very pretty, isn’t he? Or… handsome?”

Mark could just hang up on her. “Mom!”

“What?” His mom’s amusement is practically visible, like she’s in the room with him.

“ _Mom_.” Mark’s more than just whining now, but that’s also allowed, because he’s under so much stress.

“Okay, dear, sorry,” says his mom. “What were you saying about your claim mark?”

Mark winces, not sure how he feels about hearing it said out loud like that. Just that morning he cornered Johnny in front of their fridge and shouted, “So you know how I’m always saying Jaehyun-hyung and I are soulmates well what would you say if I said Jaehyun-hyung and I really are soulmates?” in highly panicked English.

Johnny had stared at him blankly, and Mark started to panic even more. Then Jaehyun came out of the bathroom, yawning and in a threadbare t-shirt, and Mark extra panicked. “Never mind, I need the bathroom, bye, Hyung!” he’d shouted, still in English, before retreating. That was awful enough in and of itself, and all Mark had said was, “We are soulmates.” There had been absolutely no mention of claim bites.

Mark swallows. “It, uh, is sore,” he says finally. It’s obviously healing and it’s not like Mark’s developing an infection, but he really doesn’t think it’s normal, how tender it is. Like, Mark fucking refuses to Google `claim bites`, but the Manager-hyungs with wives don’t seem to show similar looking scars. He’s not been going around looking at other people’s mating marks—he’s not a complete idiot—but that one time he slipped and let himself Google `Rain and Kim Taehee mating mark` he hadn’t seen anything similar to what he has. They mostly looked weirdly decorative. Not like Mark’s.

Mark thinks he’d be fine if he could just see Jaehyun’s and figure out how similar they are. Maybe it’s just a Mark and Jaehyun thing. Mark doesn’t know. That’s kind of the problem.

“Sore?” Mark’s mom sounds confused.

“Like…” Mark searches for words. “He bit me really hard, Mom.”

His mom pauses, clearly also looking for her next sentence. “Would you like me to send you a picture of mine?” she asks finally.

That would literally be the worst. “What, Mom, no! I can’t be caught with that on my phone. Think what would happen if it got stolen and my fans found out!”

His mom sighs. “Do you want to send me a picture of yours, then?” she says. “I’m sorry, dear, but I really can’t help you if I can’t see.”

Mark bites his lip. That’s true. “Okay,” he says, getting to his feet and putting the phone on speaker. “It’s, uh—on my back.”

There is a short pause.

Mark thinks about what he’s said for a little bit, and then nearly wails, somehow not sinking to his knees in despair. “Oh my _God_ , Mom, _no_ ,” he shrieks. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

His mom coughs loudly, but says nothing else, thankfully. Mark is so relieved. He still wants to burst all the way into flames, but at least they’re going to pretend Mark didn’t say that. And like, Mark can count the number of times he’s seen his mom’s claim mark on one hand, so he supposes it’s only… genetic… fuck… Mark supposes it’s only fair that he ruin this conversation even more than her by thinking that. He almost wants to say more, protest that it wasn’t like he and Jaehyun-hyung were doing any of the awfully scandalous things his mother is no doubt now picturing—Mark could just _die_ , he really could just _die—_ but Mark thinks that would make things _worse_.

Mark can’t—do this.

Mark takes off his shirt, snaps a quick photo, and sends it to his mom before he changes his mind. He puts the shirt back on, embarrassed. He gets back in bed. _Night Night_ sounds like it’s closer to wrapping up and soon Doyoung-hyung will want to sleep as well.

Mark’s mom still hasn’t said anything.

“Well?” Mark says a little desperately. “Is it okay? I’ve been putting cream on it and stuff.” His mom appears to still be thinking, so he adds, “I didn’t want to look into it too much because SM might kill me, but is it okay?”

“Well, everyone’s is a little different,” says his mom. She sounds funny.

Mark waves her off. “I know that, but like. It kind of looks like it’s scabbing? Is that normal?”

“Well, no, honey, not usually, but—”

“Fuck,” Mark swears, and then immediately apologizes. “I knew there was something wrong. I mean like, Jaehyun-hyung hasn’t really been acting weird but I had Donghyuckie hit him on the back and he totally flinched—” He breaks off, breathing hard. “So like, obviously he’s got something too and it’s _sensitive—_ ”

“Ah, well, that’s usually mostly between mates, anyway,” Mark’s mom interjects, tone still a little high. “I suppose if you went around poking people they’d react, but it’s usually very couple specific, like. Um.”

Mark’s face is so red he feels like he has to be on fire. “Mom,” he manages.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m trying to help.”

“My point is Jaehyun-hyung clearly has a mark too,” Mark says, rallying somehow through momentous effort. “Only like, he hasn’t said anything.”

“I see.”

“Do you think he didn’t notice either?” asks Mark. “Because that’s the other thing, Mom. I’ve known him for like six years. I’ve been calling him my soulmate since 2016. What’s wrong with me that I didn’t notice?”

His mom sounds like she’d hug him if she could. “Oh, Mark, honey, maybe—” She appears to be choosing her words carefully again, and Mark could just cry. Even his own mother is walking on eggshells with him. Mark is a _disaster_. “Maybe.” His mom pauses briefly. “Well, maybe it’s because Jaehyun is… Jaehyun.”

Mark blinks. “What?”

“Well, maybe it’s less that you didn’t notice and more that you didn’t think it was an option,” his mom says. When Mark keeps silent she continues, “I love your father, but he was always going on about you getting a girlfriend, growing up.”

Mark blinks.

“I wouldn’t think about it like not noticing Jaehyun was your soulmate and more like… not being aware he was… an option?”

This might be the worst conversation Mark has ever had to have with his mother, and he’s not even trying to… to come out, or whatever she thinks he is. “Oh my God, Mom, no. It’s not because he’s a guy—it’s because he’s _Jaehyun_ ,” Mark says. “I don’t—My first kiss was with Johnny-hyung, like—” He breaks off, horror icing his veins.

“Oh, well.” His mom sounds very relieved that they get to end this conversation. “I’m glad you felt like you could share that with me—”

“Mom,” Mark wails. “ _My first kiss was with Johnny-hyung_!”

There is a pause.

“Yes, thank you for telling me, Mark—”

“Mom, you don’t understand. Jaehyun-hyung was there!”

There’s another pause. Mark wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Not like that, Mom, _God_!”

His mother sounds like she’s got at least one hand raised when she speaks. “Yes, alright, honey. I hear you.”

“How could I do that to Jaehyun-hyung?” Mark says. “I’m the worst soulmate!”

Mark’s mom goes silent again.

“Mom!”

“Yes, Mark, darling, I’m listening. But… people date other people before they meet their soulmates all the time—”

“I need to apologize!” Mark says, standing up and scrambling for the door. “Don’t wait up. Love you!” He hangs up the call and tosses the phone onto his bed before his mother can so much as respond. Then he throws open his and Doyoung-hyung’s door and barrels into the living room, not at all quietly. “Johnny-hyung! Jaehyun-hyung! I need to talk to you!” Mark shouts a little desperately.

Johnny and Jaehyun freeze like deer in the headlights, camped out on the couch listening to the end of _Night Night_ , caught mid-conversation.

Mark holds his nerve and doesn’t look at Doyoung-hyung. “Alone,” he adds. He stumbles towards Jaehyun and Donghyuck’s room and pushes the door open. Donghyuck is just online playing PubG, but he stops sputtering protests when he sees Mark’s expression.

“I’ll just go bother Taeyong-hyung, then,” he mutters, before going on his way. He shoots Jaehyun a glance as he goes, like this is somehow all his fault. Mark thinks that’s unfair. It’s clearly _Mark’s_ fault.

Mark goes into the room and waits for Johnny and Jaehyun to join him, then once they have, he shuts the door. The three of them stand there in silence for a bit. Then Jaehyun says, “So,” at the same time Johnny clears his throat and starts blinking rather intently at Mark.

“So,” Mark replies.

Jaehyun’s right dimple pops out. “So what did you want to talk to us about?” he asks. He really is very pretty and Mark really is such an asshole for betraying him like this.

“I—” Mark starts. “I kissed Johnny-hyung.”

There is complete and utter silence in the room. Johnny appears to be noiselessly choking on his own spit, and Mark would be concerned for him, but Mark is much more concerned about Jaehyun’s reaction. Jaehyun is the one Mark’s betrayed by kissing Johnny to begin with, and all. But Jaehyun seems much more worried about Johnny, reaching out to thump him on the back a few times.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Mark keeps staring at Jaehyun. “Well?” he says. “Are you mad? I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun stares at him. “Am I… mad?” he repeats. “Why, um. Why are you telling me this, Mark? Shouldn’t this between you and Johnny-hyung—”

“You’re not mad?” Mark determines. “Of course, you’re not mad.” He pauses. “Why aren’t you mad?” he asks. “Am I not worthy of getting mad over?”

Immediately he regrets saying that but it’s a valid fear; underneath all the “we’re soulmates” panic and “what the heck do we do now?” panic Mark’s been _hurt_ , really. Jaehyun’s his soulmate and he’s not even upset Mark kissed another person. What the fuck?

“Are you… what are you even talking about?” asks Jaehyun.

Mark stares hard at him. “You’re my soulmate and you’re not mad I kissed someone else?” he says, more than a little desperately. “Had my first kiss with someone else?” he adds, in case that clarification will help Jaehyun get with the program. “You’re not mad I had my first kiss with someone else and not… you?”

Jaehyun stares at him, then stares at Johnny, who looks increasingly more like he wants to say something, but is having trouble figuring out what it should be. Finally, Jaehyun says, “Er, no?” in answer to Mark’s totally reasonable question. “Why… why would it be me?”

Mark stares at him with all the intensity of six days of pure panic. “Why would it be you?” he manages to say somehow. “ _Why would it be you_?”

Jaehyun keeps staring at him. “Er…” he says again. “I mean I’m not… mad?” He somehow… is _smiling_ at Mark?

“You’re not mad?” says Mark. “ _You’re not mad?_ ” It’s possible his voice is reaching unheard of volume and pitch, but he can’t be bothered to care if he wakes the whole dorm. Or. Well. Mark should maybe not air his and Jaehyun’s dirty laundry for everyone to hear. That would be really embarrassing and Jaehyun is the most private of them all.

“Um, Mark,” Johnny tries to interrupt, but Mark’s already blown.

“ _You’re my soulmate and you’re not mad I kissed someone else_?” Mark whisper-shouts.

Johnny chokes some more but Jaehyun somehow looks even more confused. “I guess?”

“I know it was a long time ago but what the fuck, Jaehyun-hyung?” Mark says. “Am I not—” He breaks off, not sure what to say.

“Um, Mark,” Johnny tries to say for the second time.

“And why haven’t you acted any differently?” Mark continues. “Don’t you care? I had Donghyuckie hit you like three times! I know you have one too!”

There’s another pause.

Johnny makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. When Mark glances at him he has his eyes shut for some reason.

Mark looks back at Jaehyun. He feels like he may start crying, he’s so worked up.

Jaehyun looks between Mark and Johnny, steadily looking more confused by the second. “Look, Mark, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not mad you kissed Johnny-hyung like… the soulmate thing is just funny on variety—”

“Just funny on variety!” Mark exclaims loudly. “Hyung, I have your _teeth_ in me!”

This time, the silence is like someone’s freaking died. All that’s audible is Mark’s heavy breathing, Mark’s blood roaring in his ears.

Jaehyun stares at Mark. “My… teeth,” he says.

Mark is not stripping off to show him, but he twists around to point anyway. “Yeah!” he says, turning to facing Jaehyun again. “Hyung, what the hell?”

Jaehyun glances between Mark’s clothed shoulder blades and Mark’s wide eyes. His mouth has fallen open. “You,” he manages. “I,” he continues. “Mark-yah—” And then he’s on the freaking floor, laughing so hard that for two seconds Mark thinks he’s crying. He’s unable to speak he’s so overcome.

Mark looks down at him, honestly speechless. “What are you doing? Why are you laughing at me—”

“Look, Mark,” Johnny says, reaching for Mark’s arm. “Jaehyunnie—”

“Mark-yah!” bellows Jaehyun. “You thought we were soulmates because I _bit_ you!”

Mark continues staring down at him. “We are!” he says. “That’s how it works! Stop laughing! You’re being really mean—”

Jaehyun rolls over, somehow chortling even harder, and peels his shirt all the way up to reveal—not Mark’s teeth. The spot is still pretty evident because Jaehyun’s pale like a fucking corpse, but it looks much less like a bite than Mark’s does. In fact it looks more like—

“A love bite!” Jaehyun crows, face down on the carpet and practically howling. “Mark, I gave you a love bite and you thought we were soulmates!”

“You did not!” Mark shouts back at him, appalled. He turns to pull his own shirt off and Johnny makes a noise in protest.

“Whoa, Mark, look, you don’t need to do that—”

“Your teeth are on me!” Mark says, glowering at Jaehyun. “Look!” He doesn’t take the shirt off, just pulls it up so that Jaehyun can see.

Jaehyun does, gasping for air, and then dissolves into even harder giggles. “I bit you!” he says. “Mark all I did was bite you! I even drew blood! Claim bites don’t bleed, Mark!”

Mark drops his shirt and turns beseechingly to Johnny, but his friend just shoots Mark an apologetic look. “Sorry, Mark,” he says. “They don’t.”

Mark turns back to Jaehyun. “That’s not true!” he says. “If that was true why didn’t my mom tell me!”

Jaehyun seems to laugh even harder at that. “You told your mom!” he says. “You told your mom!”

Mark wants to kick him in the nuts.

“You—you said you asked Donghyuckie to hit me—you paid—is that why Taeyong-hyung said he saw you giving Donghyuck money? You _paid_ Donghyuckie to _hit me—_ ”

“Yah!” Mark says, stomping his feet a little and feeling like every inch of him is blushing. “Stop laughing it’s not—it’s not _funny—_ ”

“A love bite!” Jaehyun says again. “A love—” He says a word in Korean that Mark doesn’t know, and then turns to Johnny.

“A hickey,” Johnny translates, with another apologetic look at Mark.

“A hickey!” Jaehyun says in English. “Mark, you thought a hickey was a claim bite!”

Mark does kick him in the shins, so embarrassed he can’t see straight. “Shut up,” he says. “I—shut up!” He can’t come up with anything else to say, and that only makes Jaehyun laugh even harder. 

“Oh my God,” he says in Korean, flushed and with actual tears streaming down his face. “Mark-yah!”

Mark could just kill him. “You are the worst best friend ever,” he says, somehow managing to maintain eye contact. “This is not funny.” He looks at Johnny.

Johnny raises both hands.

Jaehyun appears to be trying his best to rally, but he keeps glancing at Mark and then going into more peals of laughter, so he’s not going to get over it anytime soon.

“It’s not!” Mark tells them both, honestly feeling like he may cry. “It’s—it’s not.” He sinks down onto the ground with a thud, completely drained of all energy. After a moment, Jaehyun manages to sit up some so that he can lean against Mark, knocking their knees together. He’s still laughing a little, but quietly now.

Mark throws him a look, knees him sharply, and then drops his head down to lean against his shoulder. “Yah,” he says. “You’re a dick.”

Jaehyun just grins back at him, dimples so deep they could be craters. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot,” he says.

Mark shoves him, and then pounds him hard on the back, right where the hickey is. “You’re the one who decided it would be a good idea to fucking bite me,” he says.

Jaehyun has the decency to take the hit with grace, and he tips an imaginary glass in Mark’s direction. “Guilty,” he says. “But that was like six days ago. You could have said something.”

Mark glares at him. “I thought I basically drunk married you in Vegas,” he says.

Jaehyun dimples at him some more. “Los Angeles,” he corrects.

“Forgive me if I wasn’t in a hurry to talk to you about it,” says Mark. He drops both palms behind him and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Wow, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” says Jaehyun. “But my idiot.”

Mark levels him an ugly look.

Jaehyun practically twinkles back at him. “Too soon? We were just talking about changing roommates and I’m sure Doyoung-hyung could be convinced to give you up—”

“Absolutely not,” Mark says, pointing. He likes rooming with Doyoung-hyung, and knows Jaehyun likes rooming with Donghyuck. NCT 127 will probably keep their roommate situation for as long as possible, at least until SM moves them into a newer dorm. Besides, they can room together in hotel rooms.

“Aw.” Jaehyun juts his bottom lip out. “At least you’re not with Jungwoo.”

Mark shoves him.

Jaehyun flops noisily onto the ground, groaning. “Ow, careful, the thing on my back’s still sensitive.”

Mark thumps him in the middle of the chest.

“Oof,” Jaehyun says.

Mark grins. He still feels so embarrassed he could explode on the spot, but it’s tempered by the humor of the situation. The fact that it’s nearing midnight and they’ve got more music program recordings the next day isn’t helping much. “I can’t believe you laughed at me,” Mark says somewhat pointlessly.

Jaehyun gives him another winning smile.

“I’m just going to go,” says Johnny suddenly, making them both jump.

Mark forgot he was here, honestly, and his already shot nerves are not very appreciative of the interruption. He doesn’t curse but he does clutch as his own chest, sitting up and breathing hard. “Ah, you startled me—” Korean’s so much better for expressing shock than English sometimes.

Jaehyun sits up as well and fluffs his hair out of his eyes, before smirking up at Johnny. “No, don’t go,” he says. “Tell me more about this first kiss you two had.”

There’s a beat.

Mark… was somehow hoping Jaehyun would have forgotten that little tidbit.

Johnny appears to be trying not to choke on his own tongue again.

“You know what, Hyung, this isn’t my room and it’s late,” Mark says, getting to his feet before Jaehyun can do something like grab him. He reaches for Johnny as well, gently starting to herd him towards the door. “I’ll see you later—Johnny-hyung’ll tell Donghyuckie he can come back when he goes to his room.”

Jaehyun starts to stand. “Yah, Mark-yah. Johnny-hyung—”

“Night, Jaehyun-hyung!” Mark says loudly, shoving Johnny bodily out of the door, already mid power-walk towards his own room. “You’re still _such an asshole_!”

“Hey, you thought I was your one and only until two seconds ago!” Jaehyun says, but he doesn’t continue the first kiss line of questioning, so Mark’s counting that as a win. He doesn’t say goodnight to Johnny or even acknowledge Doyoung-hyung where he’s still frozen on the couch, but that’s fine. That’s great. Mark’s great.

Mark worries he’s going to _never live this down_ , but getting the piss taken out of him by Jaehyun for the rest of his life is considerably better than having to somehow live married to Jaehyun for the rest of his life. Like Mark didn’t even begin to think about… sexual stuff. How would that work, oh _God_.

After a moment, Doyoung-hyung arrives to his and Mark’s shared room with a loudly cleared throat.

Mark looks up at him, smiles, and then goes back to collecting his towel and pajamas so he can take his before-bed shower.

“What was that about?” Doyoung-hyung says.

Mark grins at him so hard it hurts. “Nothing,” he says. He strips out of his t-shirt for the third time that night, and starts for the bathroom.

“Yeah, Mark-yah, that looks nothing like a claim bite,” says Doyoung-hyung, right as Mark passes him with his back on display.

Somehow, Mark doesn’t faceplant onto the ground.

* * *

By morning, a good portion of the dorm knows. Jaehyun told Donghyuck who thankfully didn’t tell anyone in Dream (Mark knows, because he pulled their youngest aside that morning before breakfast and threatened to do unspeakable things to their internet connection whenever Donghyuck wanted to game). Johnny told Taeyong-hyung, who needed to know because he was their leader. Yuta-hyung, Sicheng-hyung, and Jungwoo-hyung don’t appear to know shit about what’s going on, but they’re too busy inhaling food to care. Taeil-hyung keeps laughing whenever he looks at Mark, Jaehyun, or them both together, and Mark decides Donghyuck didn’t deserve the warning.

“Look, it was before you grabbed me,” Donghyuck says, like Taeil-hyung isn’t his favorite, and wouldn’t have been told regardless.

“Absolutely none of this is appropriate information for the next live show,” Yongjae-hyung says, watching them all warily. He’s digging into breakfast heartily as well, but clearly… their staff have also been informed.

Mark really hates his life.

“We’ve almost narrowed down a title for it—Jaehyun-ah, you’re the MC.”

Jaehyun lifts his head happily and grins, rice puffing out his cheeks.

“Yes, laugh it up, okay,” Doyoung-hyung tells him. “I heard they really liked the mic concept.”

Sicheng-hyung oh so helpfully pauses eating to say, “Vroom vroom,” which gets him Yuta-hyung’s rousing respect, and a series of high fives.

Mark doesn’t put his head in his hands.

For the first day Jaehyun makes jokes that only NCT 127 would get. He holds open car doors, makes sure to help Mark with his bag, grabs Mark’s in-ears for him from the pile, and offers to pay for Mark’s coffee. He pulls Mark aside to ask if Mark’s okay, if the teasing has gone too far, but can’t seem to look at Mark for too long without at least snickering. Mark doesn’t mind the teasing because he knows Jaehyun’s only doing it out of love, but by the third day, he’s kind of tired of it. Jaehyun enlists Donghyuck, probably because they live together, and at their fansign on the nineteenth, Donghyuck tells a fan that their dorm still has a mosquito problem, and that Jaehyun is killing them for him. Which… _they do_ , and Jaehyun _probably is_ , but Mark still flushes thinking about Donghyuck using the mosquito excuse on the first day of his breakdown, and has to go try to commit homicide. Other than that, Mark’s fine.

Until Jaehyun spends a whole hour one night digging into the much meatier bit of gossip—the first kiss thing—and that one, Mark could live without. That one wouldn’t take three days for it to get miserable.

He sits in silence staring at his phone pretending to read text messages, pointedly not listening to Jaehyun’s nonsense. Wow, but he’s annoying. Mark’s glad he doesn’t have to live attached to him for the rest of his life.

And then Johnny, patient, perfect, not really an accomplice so much as a pillar of support for Mark, clears his throat.

“Well, who was your first kiss, Jaehyunnie?” he says loudly.

Jaehyun cuts off his teasing so abruptly that Mark has to look up.

“I’m sure it was equally awkward, as you’ve put it.”

Jaehyun winces, clearly not liking to have his own taunting turned around on him, and stares so hard at Johnny that it’s like he’s trying to bore a hole in him.

Johnny stares right back, smirking, and Jaehyun’s ears get more and more red.

Mark latches onto the subject change like the lifeline it clearly is. “Yeah, Jaehyun-hyung,” he says. “Who was your first kiss?”

For two more seconds Jaehyun continues to menace Johnny, and then he turns to face Mark with a winning, variety show smile. “You’re right, Johnny-hyung, I’m being cruel,” he says with a purposefully light tone. “Mark-yah.”

Mark blinks at him.

“I’ll stop teasing you quite so hard.” He actually does sound apologetic, and for two seconds Mark doesn’t want to hit him.

But then—Mark’s actually kind of curious. “Now hold on—”

Jaehyun stands from their kitchen table with phone in his hand. “I’m going to go to bed early, I think,” he says, and disappears.

Mark is left staring after him with his mouth open. He very quickly looks to Johnny. “What the heck was that about?” he says.

Johnny shrugs. “Clearly his first kiss was with someone embarrassing,” he says.

Mark narrows his eyes. “You know who his first kiss was,” he accuses.

Johnny mimes sealing his lips, smiles, and then gets up to head to his and Taeyong-hyung’s room.

Mark is left alone in the kitchen with only his phone and lamplight for company. His phone beeps with a message from his mother. `Mark-yah, it’s been nearly a week. Is everything okay?` Mark tries frantically to remember if he’d said anything to her since hanging up on her, and scrolls up to find that, no. The last thing he’d sent her—besides the photo of the bite which he’s deleting immediately oh my fucking God—was a photo of a palm tree that quote `looks exactly like Taeil-hyung kkkkkk. `from when they were still in Los Angeles. Mark swallows.

`I’m fine, Mom, thanks for asking!` he says. Then, feeling more than a little embarrassed adds, `False alarm on the soulmate front, though.`

His mother doesn’t even give him the dignity of a pause before responding. `Yes, I thought so, honey. How’s the, uh, bite, healing?`

Mark puts his head in his hands. `Fine`, he says. `Thanks`. Then he gets up and heads to his own room, where he sinks into the bed without even waiting to see if Doyoung-hyung’s noticed. He’s glad he thought to shower before thinking he’d try to listen to music with Jaehyun and Johnny. He’s glad it seems at last like it’s all… over.

He wakes not two hours later, heart pounding, from a really weird fucking dream of being nearly seventeen and unpresented and embarrassedly asking Johnny-hyung if he was stupid for never having been kissed before. It’s awful. Mark hates that this whole thing with Jaehyun, besides aging him several years, has messed with his fucking _dreams_. But he handles it, because contrary to all the evidence from the last ten or so days, Mark Lee is a goddamned _professional_. In fact— _because_ of all the evidence from the last ten or so days! None of their fans are aware Mark was in the middle of a crisis. All their fans have instead been really angry about how hot Mark is in a suit!

Mark is a fucking master; he should teach a fucking class.

Next year, Mark learns the “Superhuman” choreography and has to spend at least ten minutes hiding in their bathroom faking gastric issues, because for the part of the song where he and Johnny have their little solo exchange, their choreographer wants them to grasp each other firmly about the neck and to stare deeply in each other’s eyes. It’s not because of the kiss thing, or the soulmate shit with Jaehyun that everyone has mostly forgotten and only unpacks when they need a good laugh and Mark’s not letting Yuta-hyung get a rise out of him from the usual teasing. It’s because Mark is bad at like… skinship.

It’s possible Mark doesn’t ever really get the hang of it, and is incapable of doing the choreography properly for _pretty much the entirety of 2019_. They maybe even change the choreography so that he and Johnny are at least doing something consistently. Johnny laughs too, but less than Mark, and maybe mostly in response to Mark, but still. Mark likes to think he eventually gets his shit together. In fact he even thinks he’ll be okay to do the neck grab for all of their end of year Gayos. 

Of course that goes to utter _shit_ mid-December, when Jaehyun announces that not only would he like to start dating, but that he’d like to start dating an alpha. Their alpha. Their leader. Lee Taeyong.

Their alpha leader Lee Taeyong.

Mark feels he’s justified in losing his shit all over again.

* * *

“So,” Yuta-hyung says, once the silence starts to get really uncomfortable. “Should we just eat without them?”

The remaining members of NCT 127 all seem to unfreeze, some of them coughing into their hands—Johnny—others of them nervously messing with their hair—Taeil-hyung—and others just looking vaguely nauseated because it’s Taeyong-hyung and Jaehyun-hyung, their _family—_ Doyoung-hyung.

Mark stands in complete silence and tries to wrap his head around the entire situation.

Taeyong-hyung’s pretty much been normal the past two-ish months since Ten and Lucas got their shit together in time for SuperM’s first concert. Sure, he did get those tattoos, but Mark didn’t really see the issue with tattoos to begin with, being a foreigner. And Taeyong-hyung really put a lot of thought into them, had been clearly thinking about it since his scandals from autumn. He fucking went into a room with the person who accused him and cried for like three hours, and then enlisted Mark and Donghyuck to go harass Lucas. It’s not like Taeyong-hyung was all that different, really, these past few months. Maybe… more nervous? More… prone to dropping shit when Jaehyun came into a room?

They’re not even on the same floor half the time so it’s not like Mark really _knows_.

He’s as blindsided as the rest of them.

Although Doyoung-hyung at least looks long suffering. “Yes,” he answers Yuta-hyung, and crouches to pick up the chopsticks Taeyong-hyung scattered all over the kitchen floor when Jaehyun came at him intently. He pulls a face. “I guess I’ll go wash these for the third time.”

Mark watches him go and listens to the tap turn on, before shifting his attention to his floormates.

Taeil-hyung doesn’t even bother looking back, but Yuta-hyung cocks his head.

“What are they going to do up there for three hours?” Mark says.

There’s silence.

“Well, Mark, when a man loves another man, even if they’re both alphas—” says Yuta-hyung snarkily, and Mark groans.

“No, I know, I mean, I don’t know—I’m staying here all night because I really would rather _never know—_ but. Three hours?”

Yuta-hyung waggles his eyebrows. “Mark-yah,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’ve never—”

“Ahem, that’s enough of that, I think,” interrupts Johnny, Mark’s savior, clearing his throat some more. “Shall we sit down? I think we should sit down.”

They all head over to the table and sit down. It’s probably up there on the list of the most awkward dinners they’ve ever had, and it’s late enough that having dinner is generally weird, but like, between album release prep and the Japanese leg of the tour, not to mention their fanmeeting and the end of year programs, it’s a wonder that they’re even sitting down at all. Tomorrow they all fly to Osaka for NEO CITY: JAPAN—The Origin, so this is as good as their only time off.

Jaehyun still has a schedule tomorrow.

Mark… is trying not to think about it, but he really can’t help but think about it. It was right in front of his face: Taeyong-hyung going from a sputtering, embarrassed, dropping-all-his-shit idiot to “Oh, you like me, too? Let me show you how alphas fucking _kiss_.” Mark feels like he’s still blushing about it, and it’s been at least ten minutes.

“So, uh, is everyone excited about the tour?” says Johnny finally, glancing around at them all. “I know I am—”

“Listen, is anyone else worried about Jaehyun-hyung—he has a schedule tomorrow—”

“Mark-yah.” Yuta-hyung’s eyes are dancing as he grabs a piece of meat particularly masterfully, plops it in his mouth, and chews, all without breaking eye contact. “We really ought to talk about your fixation with your hyungs’ dicks—”

Mark sputters. “I do not have a fixation with _dicks—_ ”

“Not dicks generally. Your hyungs’ dicks. Jaehyunnie’s dick. Taeyong-hyung’s dick.”

“I’m not fixated on Jaehyun-hyung’s _dick_!”

“No, you’re more worried about Jaehyunnie _sitting_ on Taeyong-hyung’s dick—”

“There will be no discussion of sitting on anyone’s dick at the dinner table, Hyung, please,” interjects Doyoung-hyung, sounding disappointed in them all.

“I am not!” continues Mark.

“You clearly are,” continues Yuta-hyung.

“Are you sure it’s going to be Jaehyunnie sitting and not the other way around?” interjects Taeil-hyung, and Doyoung-hyung puts his head in his hands.

Mark hates his life. “Look,” he says.

“I feel like Jaehyunnie’s much less panicked about the entire situation,” says Yuta-hyung, turning to Taeil-hyung like they’re literally debating the upcoming weather in Osaka.

Johnny is practically shoveling food into his mouth, probably so that he doesn’t get dragged into the conversation, but he smiles a little at Mark anyway when he catches him looking.

“Obviously. Taeyong-hyung’s been freaking out since Thanksgiving.” Doyoung-hyung doesn’t lift his head out of his hands, but he volleys his attack flawlessly. “I caught him watching ‘Coming Home’ on the TV yesterday and he looked like he was going to start crying.”

That makes Taeil-hyung pause, turning to face Doyoung-hyung with wide eyes.

“Not about our singing, Hyung,” says Doyoung-hyung immediately, still not looking. “More about Jaehyunnie’s… hair.”

“He called me to shout about Jaehyun’s hair yesterday,” puts in Hyeongdong-hyung helpfully, and Mark hadn’t known he was sitting creepily in their bottom floor living room this whole time. Their manager shrugs when they all turn to look at him. “I told him it wasn’t my fault SM wanted him to be blue for the tour and the comeback.” He shoots Mark a look. “They’re thinking mint green for you.”

Mark rolls his shoulders back and tries not to groan. He knows he’s the one who said he wanted to do new hair for the tour, but still. He hates sitting in the chair getting bleached for hours. For mint green, Mark’s going to have to go all the way up to like a level ten, whatever the heck that means. (He knows. He hasn’t been in NCT 127 for nearly four years for nothing.)

“Sorry.” Hyeongdong-hyung knows how very boring long hair appointments can be. “They’ll do it at the venue in Osaka.”

Mark marks his mental calendar for bleaching, and then yawns.

“I don’t see how Taeyongie being panicked has anything to do with whose dick goes where,” says Taeil-hyung, clearly unbothered by the minor subject change.

Hyeongdong-hyung coughs. “And that’s my cue to leave,” he says.

Taeil-hyung’s eyes narrow and Doyoung-hyung stands up, hand hovering nervously. “You’re not—” he starts to say, then stops, clearly feeling protective, clearly feeling defensive, yet clearly knowing better than to fuss. 

Celebrity 101: thou shalt not date, especially not other idols. There definitely wasn’t anything in the fine print for what to do if those other idols were also in your own group, let alone other alphas, however.

Mark swallows.

“No, but… someone needs to let them know,” says Hyeongdong-hyung.

Doyoung-hyung’s got his lips pressed into a thin line. “Someone should tell Yunho-sunbaenim,” he says suddenly.

Mark nods furiously, lowering his chopsticks.

Hyeongdong-hyung looks uncomfortable. “Look—”

“Done,” says Taeil-hyung, lowering his phone. “What? I was the only one who could do it because we’re friends, and Taeyongie can’t kill me when he finds out I’ve blabbed about him finally getting some. I’m older.”

There’s a beat.

“What, did you all think Lee Taeyong was somehow not a virgin?” And with that bombshell dropped, Taeil-hyung polishes off his dinner, thanks Doyoung-hyung for his splendid as always cooking, and gets up to wash his bowl in the sink.

Mark leans in close to Yuta-hyung and whispers, “Taeyong-hyung’s really a virgin?”

Yuta-hyung doesn’t even pause. “Yes, Mark, congratulations on not being the only virgin in the band,” he says. “Too bad he’s joining the adults tonight.” He shoots Mark a feral smile. “For three hours.”

“Listen,” Mark says in English, unable to help himself. “Yuta-hyung. Johnny-hyung.” He looks at Johnny, who coughs some more and tries to look to Yuta-hyung for help.

Yuta-hyung is zero help. “I’m texting Jaehyunnie. No response. Guess it’s really going to be three hours. I call Doyoungie’s bed.”

Doyoung-hyung groans, but acquiesces anyway, getting up to follow Taeil-hyung’s example. “But Haechan’s in Jakarta,” he says as he goes. “Can’t you take his?”

“Only if we tell him it was your idea when we see him Sunday,” replies Taeil-hyung, and Doyoung-hyung’s shudder is visible. “I’ll just use Manager-hyung’s. Yuta can share with you.”

Mark really hasn’t touched his dinner, but when he looks around, he’s the only one who hasn’t. Johnny’s basically done and Yuta-hyung practically inhales what’s left of his food before hurrying off to claim Manager-hyung’s empty bed before Taeil-hyung can, and Mark is left alone with his unfortunately R-rated thoughts. Great. Typical. Mark sighs.

“So the tour,” Johnny says suddenly in English, and Mark startles and nearly drops his chopsticks. He looks up and finds that Johnny’s the only one who’s stayed with him, the rest of the group dispersing towards the bedrooms, still arguing loudly about who’s going to have to go upstairs first.

“Mark-yah!” Taeil-hyung yells from near the bedrooms. “Rock Paper Scissors!”

Mark knows better, but yells back, “Scissors!” anyway.

“Congratulations, you lose!” is what he gets back, and it’s also great. It’s also typical.

Mark slips his phone out of his pocket and texts Jaehyun. `They decided I have to come back to the room first, so you better be fucking decent.` He glances up at the time. `You have two and a half hours.` Horrifically, he actually does get a response back, but it’s very much unrecognizable as real human speech let alone actually Jaehyun, and Mark decides the safer option is to just pretend his best friend isn’t texting while getting fucked. Or fucking. Like. Well. Taeyong-hyung was really panicked, like Doyoung-hyung said, and if anyone knew the entire band’s secrets it was absolutely Taeil-hyung, only, what does any of that have to do with who’s putting whose dick anywhere and also, why is Mark still thinking about _either_ of their dicks—or—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Mark?” Johnny’s looking at Mark with curious eyes and infinite patience.

“I am fine!” Mark says, voice incredibly high. He raises his voice. “Dinner’s really great, Doyoung-hyung!”

“We can all smell you, Mark-hyung!” Taeil-hyung shouts back.

Mark hates them all.

That night, after lying awake in Johnny’s bed for the full three hours and then some, Mark finds himself squinting into Yuta-hyung’s cellphone flashlight, as he steps around Donghyuck’s empty bed.

“Yah,” Yuta-hyung says. “Get up. I’m getting a cramp, and I want my own bed.”

Mark hadn’t really been doing much of anything besides staring mindlessly at Johnny and Donghyuck’s ceiling, counting Johnny’s snores, but he gets up with a nod anyway. Johnny’s asleep also, had tried valiantly to stay up and keep Mark company, but was ultimately so tired from all their schedules and leftover jet lag that he’d gone out before Mark had done more than ask him what new bands he was listening to, what his favorite city they visited on tour was.

Mark does his best not to leave Johnny’s bed in too much disarray, reaches out to right the covers after he’s gone. Johnny stirs, furrows his brow a little in his sleep, and for some reason Mark kind of just wants to stay. It’s safer down here, with Johnny. Nobody’s fucking anybody down here. Mark doesn’t want to leave.

“Mark.” Yuta-hyung is whining now. “Come on. I’m tired, let’s go.”

Mark licks his lips. “Right, okay.” He does his best not to trip over anything on their way to the door. “Do we need to get Taeil-hyung—”

“He went back an hour ago,” Yuta-hyung says. “He’s braver than us all. Before you ask he hasn’t texted me back since, that fucker, so who knows if our leader and our visual are decent.”

They reach the dorm door, bend to put on their shoes, then pull the door open without waiting to see if anyone’s woken up. They head to the elevator, press the button for their floor, and stand in chilled silence, shivering because none of them were dressed to have to go back when the building is dead quiet and somehow always cold.

Mark yawns.

Yuta-hyung stretches his back with audible cracks. “You’re still going in first,” he says, grinning at Mark’s despair.

Mark goes in first with his eyes closed hating his life, to find the living room empty and pitch black. The light they usually leave on in the kitchen is off because nobody from their floor was here when they all decided to go to bed. Well. Jaehyun was, but Mark’s not thinking about that.

Taeil-hyung and Yuta-hyung’s room is dark too—no doubt that’s why he hasn’t been texting Yuta-hyung back (although Mark wouldn’t put it past Taeil-hyung not to have been laughing about the entire situation and just not responding to fuck with them.).

Jaehyun’s door is pulled shut and no light escapes out the bottom.

Mark heaves a sigh of relief. “We’re good,” he says, fumbling further into the apartment and reaching for the light switch in the kitchen. The dorm lights up just enough for Mark to see where Taeyong-hyung and Jaehyun have left their shoes. He turns, mouth open to keep speaking, in time to watch Yuta-hyung disappear into his and Taeil-hyung’s room. The door shuts with a snick. Mark feels distinctly betrayed, but heaves out another long sigh. “Yeah, okay,” he says to himself in English, rolling his eyes. “You all suck.” Mark knows they all know what that means anyway, but he gets great satisfaction in getting to tell them off, even if not to their faces. He moves to head to his own room.

He doesn’t get far.

Jaehyun is standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing only a towel, and looking amused. The bathroom light is still on, casting everything in shadow. Mark is briefly blinded. Somehow, he does not shout in fright.

“Hyung,” he gasps out instead. “Hyung, fuck, what are you doing? You scared me.”

Jaehyun lifts one perfect eyebrow, and shakes his hair a little, splattering water on the wall.

Mark takes an involuntary step backwards.

“Showering,” says Jaehyun.

Mark glares at him. “Yes, clearly,” he says. “Why are you showering at”—he breaks off and pulls out his phone, clicks the screen awake—“one in the morning?”

Jaehyun stares back at him looking unbothered. “Well,” he says.

Mark has a sinking feeling he should have just not asked. “Wait—never mind—”

“When a man loves another man, and that man is an alpha—”

“Hyung, I—I’m happy for you—goodnight,” Mark tries to say. He tries to walk past but can’t get past without having to look closer at Jaehyun’s bare chest, which is very pale, and still kind of glistening—fuck him, what’s the point of having a towel if he’s not going to use it—and also, because of how pale he is, showing an array of bright red… well… they look like claw marks, but Mark really _would not like to further explore that line of thought_. He’s not an idiot. He knows Taeyong-hyung doesn’t have claws. Maybe they’re—bite—marks—

Mark shuts his eyes. He has so many regrets. He has _so_ many regrets.

“Hygiene is very important, Mark-yah,” says Jaehyun. “Also, I was sore.” He pauses. “Am sore.”

Mark would just like to die now. He says as much.

Jaehyun laughs. “You’re cute, Mark-yah,” he says, butchering Mark’s name in his usual way.

Mark sighs and keeps his eyes shut, basically resigned to feeling his way back to his room and probably waking the entire dorm in the process. “Yes, go die in a hole, Jaehoons,” he says.

Jaehyun laughs.

Mark tries not to think about how happy he sounds, how… well-satisfied. “Wait, but—” Mark says, despite himself. He clearly has no self-preservation. He bites hard on his tongue, until he tastes blood. He opens his eyes.

Jaehyun is standing one step out of the bathroom towards his bedroom, that damn eyebrow raised again. The change in angle means Mark can see the expanse of his back now, and there are many more—fuck… those are definitely bite marks— _things_ for Mark to see now. All over Jaehyun’s shoulder blades, like someone got on him and held on with their teeth alone. Mark opens his mouth to say something stupid like it’s October 2018 all over again.

“No, Mark, we didn’t mate,” says Jaehyun, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want my mark on my back anyway.”

Mark immediately wants to backpedal out of the conversation. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Uh. I really am happy for you, Hyung.”

The smile Jaehyun gives him is blinding. It’s somewhat ruined by his door creaking open to reveal a disheveled looking Taeyong-hyung, who squints between the two of them, breathes very deeply, and then sort of glowers at Mark, who takes another step back towards his own bedroom.

“Why are you taking so long—”

“Well since neither of us can get pregnant and you didn’t use a condom—”

“Goodnight, Taeyong-hyung, Jaehyun-hyung!” says Mark, nearly tripping in his haste to get into the room. He shuts the door with a too-loud thud, and then stands there staring blankly into the almost darkness, breathing hard for a full ten seconds. The bathroom light goes out a moment later, Jaehyun and Taeyong-hyung’s voices disappearing behind Jaehyun’s door shortly after, and Mark is left all the way blind. His chest rises and falls.

“Mark-yah,” Manager-hyung mumbles. “Minhyung-ah—”

Mark winces as he always does when they like to use his Korean name. “Look—”

“I always knew you were my favorite,” Manager-hyung continues. “Kind, hardworking, most diligent trainee.”

Mark colors as he always does when they mention all his trainee awards.

“So bad at flirting it’s no wonder you’ve never so much as dated—”

“Hey, that was—that was a really dumb interview,” Mark says, flushing in the darkness and walking towards his bed angrily. He. Fuck, he hasn’t showered. He didn’t want to shower in the other dorm because he’d have to put his shoes on to walk back up, and he didn’t have fresh clothes, let alone socks. And if he goes to shower now he’ll be… he’ll be going after Jaehyun. Who was—

Mark’s not thinking about it. He grabs pajamas, changes quietly, and then flops loudly onto his bed, his phone jabbing into his solar plexus. He opens his private chat with Jaehyun. `You dick`, he says. `You’ve ruined the shower. What am I supposed to do from now on?`

`Mmm, it’s not like Taeyongie-hyung and I were in it together, though`, replies Jaehyun promptly, the asshole. `But good idea, Mak.` He spells Mark’s name as one character ending with a kieuk. `Thank you.`

`I hate you.`

`Lol.`

Mark shoves the phone under his pillow and then sighs.

* * *

When they land at KIX after Mark’s favorite part (the slow climb down, when they’re flying at what looks like only water, and for two seconds his brain thinks they’re heading to their doom) Taeyong-hyung’s phone practically lights up with a barrage of messages. They’re clearly all from Jaehyun; Taeyong-hyung goes from besotted, to amused, to embarrassed, to an odd mix of pleased and defensive in all of three seconds. He smells stronger than usual, and that gets him a sharp look from Nari-noona.

Taeyong-hyung lowers the phone guiltily, pops in his AirPods, and pulls his mask back on. He straightens his hat.

Mark is absolutely not curious about what Jaehyun’s texted him. It’s not even that late, and _Inkigayo_ recording isn’t until two-thirty. Mark is much more concerned with the tour. He doesn’t have time to be bothered by whatever flirting is going on between his bandmates.

“I thought you were bad at flirting,” Doyoung-hyung tells Taeyong-hyung the moment they get into the car. “Sit up straight. Yah. What are you doing?”

“Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong-hyung whines, thrusting his phone at Doyoung-hyung with overdone agyeo. “Help! Jaehyunnie says he hates me.”

Doyoung-hyung takes the phone as he would something poisonous, reads the first message, and then winces. Mark wonders why he subjected himself to this car instead of the other, much cooler car. Yuta-hyung is much too busy texting his family to have input, and so Mark is left alone with Taeyong-hyung and Doyoung-hyung as the two of them do their thing.

“Yes well, it sounds like Jaehyun hates you for reasons I absolutely refuse to repeat,” Doyoung-hyung says, with pure distaste in his voice. He practically shoves the phone and Taeyong-hyung’s hands away. “Hyung. You knew he had recording today.”

Taeyong-hyung pouts. “Yes, but he looks like a blueberry.”

Doyoung-hyung has a pinched look to his features. “Yes, so you’ve said. Do you often spend time fucking blueberries until they’re too sore to stand properly for music program recording, Taeyong-hyung?”

Mark would very much like to be excluded from this narrative, thanks.

“They made a movie about that,” says Yuta-hyung, not looking up from his phone.

Doyoung-hyung looks like he has zero interest in asking for clarification but does so anyway. “Oh?”

“That one with the blueberry,” Yuta-hyung says. “And that kid. Who fucked the blueberry.”

There’s only silence.

Mark clears his throat. He thinks he knows the film, but he’d rather not remind them he’s here.

“It got nominated for an Oscar,” Yuta-hyung continues.

Mark definitely knows the film. Yuta-hyung’s definitely not remembering it correctly. Mark’s definitely not saying anything.

“Anyway,” Doyoung-hyung says.

“You’re not helpful,” Taeyong-hyung says.

“Look. Here,” Mark says, dragging himself forward so that he can pull Taeyong-hyung’s phone towards him. “He’s probably not being serious—”

Taeyong-hyung turns large eyes on him. “Mark-yah,” he whines.

Mark ignores that he now knows that Taeyong-hyung has changed Jaehyun’s name to `My strawberry emoji ice cream emoji` and scrolls down the series of messages, which progress from, `good morning,` to, `I hate you and wish I never met you`, very quickly. He sighs. It turns out Doyoung-hyung was not exaggerating in the slightest. He now knows for sure whose dick went where. It’s great. “He’s not really angry,” Mark manages.

“No, I know that,” Taeyong-hyung says, taking his phone back in time to get another message and go through the same series of emotions all over again.

Mark leans back in his seat and breathes through his nose. 

Yuta-hyung puts his phone down. “Aw, look,” he says. “You broke him.”

Mark flips him off.

* * *

Jaehyun lands later that night and meets them at the hotel, shows up at the room Mark and Taeyong-hyung are camped out in, with his blue hair hidden behind a hat, and scowls when he sees them.

Mark’s already moving to stand because he knows better and Johnny’s a much safer roommate than Taeyong-hyung to begin with, but he was there going over rap parts and writing lyrics, and also because he didn’t want to go swimming with Donghyuck, Taeil-hyung, and Doyoung-hyung. Yuta-hyung was doing a live earlier, and Mark was texting him photos of them both at the airport.

“Mark-yah. I love you,” Jaehyun says. “Get out.”

Mark attempts to roll off the bed.

“Jaehyun-ah!” Taeyong-hyung is kneeling on the bed, arms outstretched, like he’s going to go in for a hug.

“Don’t touch me, you fucker,” Jaehyun says, practically hissing like a cat. “I was on a plane for an hour and a half with like five fansites.” He shudders. “You owe me a massage. And your ass.”

“Okay that’s my cue!” Mark says loudly, and actually does roll off the bed this time, pride bedamned. “I’m glad you made it to Osaka safely, Jaehyun-hyung. Taeyong-hyung, I think you should work on the last verse some more. The rhyme isn’t quite working for me.” Mark addresses the carpet, because the carpet can’t talk about needing anyone’s ass; the carpet hasn’t got an ass, or a knot, or a sex drive. The carpet is Mark’s only friend.

“Really, Mark, this is sad,” Jaehyun says, as Mark rallies enough to stand creakingly to his feet. Lord. Practice is hell on his joints; he might do a soak in the hotel bath. Or he’ll go to the pool with the rest of them anyway.

Mark turns baleful eyes on him. “Forgive me if the logistics of the two of you hurts my brain,” he says.

Taeyong-hyung’s rolled over onto his stomach on the bed and has his tongue between his teeth, brow furrowing over the lyrics on his phone. Mark can tell Jaehyun’s really only watching the arch of his spine, and he needs to get out the room ASAP.

“Anyway, bye—”

“Mark, really, it’s all in the preparation,” says Jaehyun, with an infernal twist of his wrist.

Mark stares at him with his mouth fallen open. “What—”

“Besides you really shouldn’t knock it until you try it.”

Taeyong-hyung lifts his head from his phone and nods, furiously. “What Jaehyunnie said,” he says.

Jaehyun fucking dimples at him. “You’re just saying that so that you get a go again,” he says.

Mark feels screaming start inside his brain, but luckily, he keeps it inside. “Right, I’m just going to go now,” he tells them both. “Goodbye!”

Johnny’s just out of the shower when Mark gets back to their room, but all he does is look up at Mark and smile. “Hey.”

Mark is so relieved he could cry. “Hey—”

Johnny’s phone beeps with a new KakaoTalk message before Mark can continue, and Johnny gives him puppy eyes. “Hey, can you grab that for me—” He gestures to where he’s picking out pajamas.

Mark does, lifting the phone and blinking down at the message. Johnny hasn’t got message previews off because he’s a trusting asshole, and Mark kind of hates him. Of course he hates Taeyong-hyung more, for texting Johnny the words `As the sunbae you’re totally in charge of giving Mark the sex talk, okay? I’m starting to worry he’ll die alone and a virgin.`

“So?” Johnny’s pulled on a shirt now, and he bends to stick his legs into boxers under the towel.

Mark lets the phone drop onto Johnny’s bed. “Taeyong-hyung’s an asshole,” he says.

Johnny finishes with his pajamas and goes to hang the towel on the bathroom door. “Ah,” he says. The back of his shirt is rucked up and showing a strip of skin.

Mark stares at it. “None of you are like… concerned?” Mark can’t help but say. He realizes suddenly that they’ve had their whole conversation in English, but he doesn’t mind. It’s nice.

Johnny hangs his towel and comes back around, sinking down onto his bed and pulling his phone out from under the covers. It’s plugged in and charging, and Mark thinks he should do the same. “About Taeyong and Jaehyun?” Johnny says. “No, they’re big boys, Mark.”

Mark makes a face at him, annoyed.

Johnny smirks back at him, and then smiles much more honestly. “Sorry,” he says. “Look, Mark.”

Mark pulls out half his phone charger and continues to root around in his bag for the plug connector, and for his adaptor.

Johnny throws a shirt at him. “Hey, use mine.”

Mark stops looking and heads to the outlet, hooks the USB of his charger into the adaptor, and plugs in his phone. “I know they’re adults,” he says. “It’s just like—wouldn’t it hurt?” He sits on the bed, knocks his knuckles together a few times, then twists his hands into a loose approximation of penetration. He immediately regrets such an action, and actually debates putting a hand in his mouth. He settles for sitting on them instead. He hates that he can’t stop thinking about it. He worries once he stops thinking about it he’ll start to think about why he can’t stop thinking about it.

“Mark,” says Johnny slowly. “Be honest. Are you afraid of your own dick?”

Mark’s mouth falls open. It stays open.

Johnny looks back at him, utterly non-judgmental.

Mark feels judged regardless. “What?” he says. “What? No? What? No! What! _No_!” he says.

Johnny remains silent.

Mark stands. “I’m not—” He stops, lowers his voice. “ _I’m not afraid of my own dick, Hyung!_ ”

Johnny continues to not say anything.

Mark grabs his toiletry bag off the bedside table and practically sprints to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” he says. “I’m—oh my God.”

Johnny remains seated on the bed as Mark goes, but is kind enough to leave the conversation there. And like, Mark slays both Osaka concerts, so.

* * *

They land back in Seoul and go straight into rehearsals for their fanmeet, but still, Mark is thinking about it. The first time he walks in on Taeyong-hyung and Jaehyun using practice time for _absolutely not practice_ he thinks about it, once he turns back around after they’ve made themselves presentable. He might have thought about it a little on the plane, but like, he sat next to Jaehyun, who as stated, _is an asshole_ , and kept making faces. Raising his eyebrows. Texting Mark really unnecessary shit and then being like, `oops sorry, that was for Taeyong-hyung`, like Mark hadn’t realized when the first sentence was, `I miss your cock`. Mark’s would not normally be this invested in his friends’ sex lives; it just so happens his friends are awful people who take good pleasure in giving Mark minor heart attacks and keep sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.

(Jaehyun’s not really that awful, though. `Hey, you’re okay, though, right?` he texted thirty minutes into the flight, and Mark nearly tripped over himself in his haste to assure Jaehyun that he was totally fine and supportive of his and Taeyong-hyung’s relationship. It wasn’t until he’d finished stumbling through a frankly _touching_ speech, that he realized that Jaehyun was not asking about that; he was making sure Mark wasn’t actually upset about all the teasing. Taeyong-hyung wasn’t even involved, but Mark glared at him anyway.)

Their managers let them get away with it because they’re not allowed to be any different in public, and they’re sweet, when they’re not scarring everyone. Honestly nothing much changes because the schedule is so tight, and it’s business as usual, give or take the horrible teasing.

That night after rehearsal, Mark is in the living room of the dorm when Jaehyun lets himself through the front door. He’s humming, bare faced, has his hair pulled off his forehead using a headband, and for once, he’s alone. But if Mark listens harder, he realizes Jaehyun’s humming “Angel” which is… really fucking cute.

Or it would be, if the first thing Jaehyun did when he saw Mark wasn’t pulling his shirt collar down, grinning, so he could reveal the latest addition to the collection of bites Taeyong-hyung’s been giving him.

Mark would ask, but Mark knows better at this point. Maybe it’s not an alpha thing. Maybe Taeyong-hyung’s a vampire.

“Hyung,” Mark reproaches Jaehyun, too used to it at this point to say more.

Jaehyun just grins.

Mark heaves a great sigh. “I hate you,” he says, deciding he’ll just go down and bug Donghyuck. Dream’s fanmeeting is the day after 127’s, but Donghyuck’s been going to rehearsals for both, running himself thin. Mark remembers what that was like, and he’ll take the abuse if it means Donghyuck gets to stop thinking so hard.

“Oh are you going downstairs?” Jaehyun says. “Can you pass a message to Hyung for me?”

Mark raises his middle finger the entire way out of the room. Once outside he takes a few bracing breaths, then heads for the elevator. Immediately, there is a problem. Namely, Taeyong-hyung, standing there waiting for it. Mark has the horrible realization that Taeyong-hyung… dropped Jaehyun off. “The two of you are sickening,” Mark says.

Taeyong-hyung looks up from where he’s been catching a Pokemon on his phone, and blinks. “What? Oh, Mark, hi.”

Mark smiles and taps the down button a few times.

Taeyong-hyung doesn’t look that ruffled, but his lips are a little swollen and his hair is a little mussed. Feathery and blond is a good look for him. Mark tugs on his own mint green head self-consciously. The elevator arrives. They both get in. Mark has to hold his breath, because now without the circulation, Taeyong-hyung is much more pungent. It’s a lot. Mark hates that their elevator has all these mirrors.

Taeyong-hyung always smells like a mix of all of them, at this point, of course. They’re a family, and there was always plenty of instinctual, casual hugging whenever Mark and Donghyuck came back from too-long Dream promotions. But this is different. Maybe it’s because it’s not a general, NCT 127 smell, so much as it is a mix of Taeyong-hyung and just Jaehyun. Mark kind of feels warned off, instead of comforted. Which is really not the most unsettling thing about the entire situation, but ends up being Mark’s breaking point anyway. Forget gaming with Donghyuck. Mark needs to talk to Johnny.

Taeyong-hyung yawns. “Mark-yah—”

Mark flings himself out of the elevator the moment he can, pretending he can’t hear Taeyong-hyung. This backfires when he reaches the dorm, which is locked. He needs Taeyong-hyung to get in. Fuck. Mark stands, waiting, hating his life.

Taeyong-hyung doesn’t take his time, but he does shoot Mark several concerned looks. “Mark—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Mark hollers as soon as he’s inside. “Go bother Dream for at least an hour!”

Both Donghyuck and Johnny emerge, Doyoung-hyung having been alone on the living room couch. “What?” Doyoung-hyung starts to say.

Mark turns owlish eyes on him as well, before facing Donghyuck. “I,” he manages. “I need—”

Johnny takes one look at him and starts moving forward, putting one hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. They communicate silently for a moment.

Then Donghyuck sighs. “I wanted to bug Taeil-hyung anyway,” he says.

Doyoung-hyung exchanges a look with Johnny and Taeyong-hyung. “I—” he says. “Yuta-hyung said he’d practice Japanese with me?”

That leaves just Taeyong-hyung, who looks slightly miffed. “Aw, Youngho-hyung, I just walked all the way downstairs,” he says.

“We took the elevator,” mumbles Mark.

Johnny just stares.

“Ah, fine, I’ll just go… bother Jaehyun.”

“A hardship,” Doyoung-hyung says dryly, but all three of them go. Mark listens to the stomp of their feet on the floor as they move away from the door.

“Manager-hyung?” he manages.

“Out,” Johnny says. “Mark.”

Mark squeaks, and stumbles further into the dorm. He toes off his shoes and wrings his hands. “No—I—your room,” he says.

Johnny goes and Mark follows.

It’s so much better, somehow.

Mark breathes. “I am afraid of my own dick,” he says. “I— _fuck—_ I mean I—I masturbate—” He breaks off, grabbing his hair in both hands and fighting the urge to just yank. “Jaehyun-hyung’s an asshole and he won’t stop teasing me,” he tells Johnny and Donghyuck’s floor. “It’s messing with my head.”

Johnny comes to stand next to him so silently Mark jumps when his hands land on Mark’s shoulders. “Mark,” he says quietly. “Breathe.”

Mark lets out the lungful of air he hadn’t realized he was keeping and finally lets go of his hair. He stands there, looking up at Johnny, not knowing where to put his hands.

“Breathe,” Johnny says again.

Mark looks him in his eyes and matches the rise and fall of his chest. The room feels much less stuffy, much less hot.

“So…” Johnny says. “What if we just… Would it help if you… experienced it?”

Mark… stares. “What?” he manages.

Johnny is looking anywhere but Mark, but that’s not the shocking thing. The shocking thing is the faint pink to his cheeks and the rims of his ears. Well. The most shocking thing is the fact that he’s offering to—well—Mark’s not sure what he’s offering, exactly.

“What?” Mark says again.

Johnny lifts his head and meets Mark’s gaze head on. “We should have sex,” he says.

Oh. Propositioning. The correct word is propositioning. Johnny is propositioning Mark—

“I mean. That would help you stop… being afraid, right?” Johnny fucking _smiles_ at Mark.

Mark wonders if he should make a joke, or something. “Johnny Suh,” he says in English. “What sort of things do they do in Chicago?”

Instead of laughing with him, Johnny seems to wilt, for two seconds. Mark feels awful.

“Let’s do it,” he says immediately. “I mean… if you’re offering… That would—that would be… great.” That would be great? _That would be great?_ What the fuck is Mark _doing_?

Johnny is looking at him suddenly very seriously, like he’s searching Mark’s face for something, but for what, Mark has no idea. Whatever he finds, it’s enough for him. He nods. “Okay.”

Mark follows his lead. “Right.” He claps his hands, because he still doesn’t know what to do with them. “Where do we start?” The moment the words come out Mark’s regretting them, already seeing the number of ways they can be taken, the teasing that’s sure to come. He shuts his eyes.

Johnny stays quiet.

Mark opens his eyes to find Johnny hasn’t moved; is just standing there looking at Mark with a small smile.

“Kissing is nice,” says Johnny kindly.

All the air comes out of Mark’s lungs in one great puff. “Right,” he says again. “I—right.” He and Johnny aren’t close in height at all. “How are we going to—”

Johnny leans in first, puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder like they’re doing “Superhuman” and tilts his head; Mark follows, mirroring the action so they really don’t meet up until he realizes, and then corrects.

It’s. Like. Mark’s kissed Johnny before, obviously. Mark dreamed about that first kiss for an embarrassing amount of time during their “Regular” promotions. Mark doesn’t really remember what it was like, because it was _years ago_ , but he— It’s not like Mark’s a stranger to kissing or to kissing Johnny. Mark hasn’t kissed loads of people, or anything, because Mark went through puberty as an idol. Mark had to beg Johnny to kiss him that first time because he felt like he was missing out. Mark thought he was going to be a beta for pretty much all of his adolescence, even when everyone else had him pegged as an omega. It was because he was so small and delicate, or whatever.

Johnny knew Mark was never going to be an omega.

Johnny kissed Mark without question, put a large hand on one of Mark’s blushing cheeks and pressed their lips together, long enough for it to mean something, but not too long for it to be more than a favor.

This is nothing like that.

This is Mark with his hands on both of Johnny’s shoulders, craning his neck to reach, and not knowing if he should do anything else. This is Mark not breathing, Mark not even blinking, Mark… gasping.

This is… good.

Mark still has no idea what to do with his hands beyond clutch helplessly at Johnny’s rather impressive shoulders, but when they separate for air a few moments later and Johnny tries to take a step back, Mark finds he doesn’t want to let him go. Not doing so upsets his balance, though, so Mark yelps, eyes shutting, and the only reason he doesn’t fall flat on his face is because Johnny takes him by the waist and steadies him.

“Whoa,” he says in English, voice surprisingly raspy—and Mark did that. Mark. That’s because of Mark. “Steady, Mark Lee.”

Mark glowers up at him. “Shut up, Johnny Suh.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “It’s not my fault I’m fall-over gorgeous.”

Mark keeps glaring. He doesn’t feel awkward, but he also really has no idea what he’s doing, or what the next step is.

Johnny’s hands flex against Mark’s waist, before he finally steps back, untangling Mark’s fingers from where they’re gripping tight to his shoulders.

Mark makes a noise of protest.

Johnny smiles at him comfortingly. “Mark Lee,” he says again, still in English. “Are you alright?”

It feels like that’s all anyone’s been saying to Mark lately. Well, if you’re Jaehyun, that and a whole lot of other things. “Yes, why does everyone keep asking that—”

“Well you did just confess to being afraid of your own dick,” says Johnny. He’s made his way to his bed and has sat down, both hands resting on his thighs.

Mark looks at them and swallows. He supposes it’s alright for him to think about Johnny’s thighs, at this point. He supposes it’s alright for him to think about Johnny shirtless, at this point. “I—am,” Mark says. “But it’s not my dick—”

“It’s your knot,” says Johnny, rolling his head and leaning back on both hands so that he can let his legs fall even further apart.

Mark would almost like to compliment him; who knew Johnny had such game; certainly not Mark. “Well you’d be afraid if you had one too,” snaps Mark. “It’s different feeling it in real life.”

Johnny raises one eyebrow. “How do you know I haven’t?” he says.

And… that breaks Mark’s brain a little. He comes back to himself a few moments later, somehow having been led back over to sit beside Johnny on the bed, but instead of looking seductive, now Johnny just looks concerned. “Look, Mark,” he says.

“I need to do this,” Mark says desperately, pulling his shirt over his shoulders—somehow his glasses stay on—and fumbling his way into Johnny’s lap before he can think better of it. He presses messy, clumsy kisses against all of Johnny’s protests, struggles to figure out where to put his hands, and finally settles for looping both arms around Johnny’s neck. “I need you to do this with me,” Mark corrects, still desperately, and then, when he realizes Johnny has gone rigid, freezes. “Oh fuck,” he curses. He tries to get his hands back and struggles. He tries to get out of Johnny’s lap and struggles, stills only when Johnny drops hot palms on the small of Mark’s back. “I’m sorry,” Mark says. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I’m awful.”

Johnny quiets him with another kiss, less heated than the one before, but not nearly as bumbling as any of Mark’s attempts.

Mark goes completely still, barely breathing.

Johnny’s nose bumps into Mark’s cheekbone, and then Mark can feel him grinning. It makes him laugh as well. “We’re really bad at this, aren’t we?” he says.

Johnny’s still laughing, but he pulls back so he can stare at Mark. “Speak for yourself, Mark Lee,” he says in English. “I’m a ladykiller.” He waggles both of his eyebrows.

“I’m not a lady,” Mark says, watching Johnny dubiously as he shifts them both on the bed. It’s kind of impressive, the way Johnny scoots back with Mark still perched on his thighs and somehow manages to lean back against his pillows all sexily.

Mark drops both knees down on either side of Johnny’s waist and stands on them to most of his full height, arms crossed. Mark’s got no problem with a little man handling, but Mark’s still an alpha. Not that Mark’s one of _those_ alphas, but there’s only so much babying Mark’s instincts are going to take. Already he can feel his cock stirring with interest, the combination of calming, familiar scents of the room and the kissing making it easy for him to get worked up. It doesn’t hurt that Johnny’s roommate is Donghyuck, who despite fighting it furiously and making a fuss any time anyone mentions it, is still an omega. Johnny always smells nice but now he smells interested, and it’s mixing with all the other scents in the room and making Mark’s breath come in pants.

“No you’re not,” says Johnny. He’s still wearing more clothes than Mark. He’s still leaning back against his pillows, the blond of his hair falling in a halo around his head.

Mark wants to kiss him again. He leans down, both hands interlocking overtop Johnny’s head, so that he can do so.

“Wait,” Johnny says against Mark’s mouth.

Mark freezes, heart rate increasing, panic making the room smell significantly less arousing. That’s probably good, since who knows if Mark will survive the ribbing out Donghyuck’s going to give him. Mark hasn’t dared to set foot in Jaehyun’s room since he and Taeyong-hyung started defiling it, and both Jaehyun and Taeyong-hyung have single rooms, so they really don’t have to hold anything back. Donghyuck has to live in this room with Johnny for all of the unforeseeable future.

“What?” Mark asks Johnny, not sure he wants the answer.

“Lube,” says Johnny.

Mark pauses. “Oh,” he says. _Oh. Oh. Oh_.

Johnny tips his head back a little to reveal the long, appealing line of his neck. “Still good?”

“So good,” Mark says, and kisses him again. He sits himself more firmly back across Johnny’s lap, lets himself tangle his fingers in Johnny’s hair. He sighs. Kissing is so nice. Johnny is so nice.

“You too,” says Johnny, almost laughing, so Mark’s said that out loud then. “Still need lube.”

Mark tugs on his hair a little in punishment, and then tries not to be too obviously into it when Johnny’s breath hitches. Up close Johnny smells even _better_ , and it’s like each time Mark kisses him he learns more about him, like getting up close and personal with the roof of Johnny’s mouth is like… crossing the cell barrier, or something. Like alcohol moving through the brain. Mark really likes it.

“Where do you keep it?” Mark says.

Johnny keeps lube in his bedside table underneath an assortment of trinkets and mementos from their tour, and Mark tries not to notice that there are a lot of photos of the two of them in there. Jaehyun from before they started dying his hair. Taeyong-hyung and Johnny at Taeyong-hyung’s sister’s wedding, Taeyong-hyung’s graduation. He pulls out the lube and raises an eyebrow at the flavor. “Really?”

“I got it when we were back home,” says Johnny, uncaring. “Not when we trapped Doyoung in Target—this month.”

Mark hums.

“That’s why it’s so small—I forgot, and just about had a heart attack on my way through TSA.”

Mark thinks about that, imagines Johnny getting stopped by TSA for trying to take too much lube on a plane, and laughs. He sits down on the bed. He pops off the bottle cap. “Oh my god, Hyung, you failure,” he says, the first bit of Korean between them since they started this. For some reason Johnny’s expression shutters a little closed. But then he smiles.

“Wait, hold on, Mark Lee,” he says. “Don’t get ahead of yourself—oh.”

Mark’s squeezes out a few droplets and brings his fingers to his mouth, unable to resist. “Sorry,” he says, licking his lips. It doesn’t really taste like watermelon, but then, most things that boast that flavor don’t. His gum never does. “You were saying?”

Johnny’s got his eyes fixed on Mark’s lips, and they look glazed.

Mark nudges him.

“What? Right,” Johnny says, shaking his head. “Right. Let me just. Take these off, then.” He gestures at his pants, and then sits up so he can do so.

Mark remains half on the bed holding the open bottle of lube and watches him, mouth open. Oh. Right. Yeah. They need to be naked to do this properly. Mark should take his own pants off too. And also probably his socks. He closes the lube so it won’t make a mess all over Johnny’s bed.

When he looks back up, Johnny’s down to just his boxers and t-shirt. Being just in his briefs makes Mark self-conscious, but he keeps tugging off his socks anyway. “What?”

“Nothing.” Johnny says it so fast Mark almost worries. “I’ll just, uh, take these off then?” The similarity in the phrasing isn’t missed by Mark, but he isn’t able to say anything, because Johnny is taking off his boxers without even waiting for Mark’s response. He leaves the t-shirt on so Mark still can’t see much of anything, but soon that goes, and then Johnny’s fully naked, kneeling on his bed with both hands covering his dick, looking awkward.

Mark’s throat has gone dry.

“Well?” Johnny says. His throat sounds like it’s gone dry too. “Now you?”

Somehow Mark manages to get his own boxers off. Somehow, his cock is still more than half hard. The skin of his knot feels hot and inflamed, and Mark doesn’t want to look at it, but he doesn’t know if he can look forward. Come to think of it, Mark never does much of anything with his knot whenever he masturbates. It’s not often anyways, because they’re so freaking _busy_ , but sometimes he can afford to rub one off in a shower. Sometimes Mark just needs to take the edge off so he can sleep, and an orgasm is the easiest way to do that. He never really touches his knot, though. He knows he needs to—he has been in rut before (only once, to cement the fact that he was really going to be an alpha, and then never after that because fame) but he just. Doesn’t. And it’s fine, it’s not the most satisfying thing, but Mark’s never been all that into self-love anyway, simply because he’s a romantic and has always sort of fantasized about losing his everything to one person.

And yet, here Mark is, about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

But it’s the best friend who Mark gave his first kiss, so Mark really is losing everything to one person.

Or.

Not everything.

Not. Not claims, and stuff—

“Mark-yah.” Johnny’s speaking Korean now. “Are you sure you’re okay with this—”

“I’m fine,” Mark says in English, kneeling all the way on the bed finally, and putting both fists on his thighs. He stares hard at Johnny, refuses to let himself look away. Johnny’s as muscular as he’s always been, all arms and pecs and a six pack, but Mark’s seen that all before. He looks at the trail of hair down below his belly button, looks at the jut of his hip bones and wants to bite bruises into both of them. He lowers his gaze to Johnny’s cock, as interested as Mark’s own, and curving up towards that line of hair. It’s not like Mark’s never seen a beta dick before. It’s not like Mark’s not seen his band naked before. It’s not like Mark’s not fine.

“Okay,” Johnny says. When Mark meets his eyes, he’s clearly been doing his own looking, and Mark feels heat start on his cheeks and in the center of his chest.

“Cool,” Mark says, fumbling the lube between his hands. “So—” 

“You—”

They both stop, the beginning of their sentences knocking into one another.

They both smile.

Mark feels significantly less panicked. “You first,” he says.

Johnny’s eyes crinkle again. “Actually you first,” he says, shifting back around on the bed and leaning so that his head is on the pillow next to where Mark is still kneeling. After a mild pause, he lets his legs fall apart, and after an even longer pause, starts to grab under his own knees.

Mark will be having none of that. He moves around on the bed, gets himself between Johnny’s thighs and drops down onto him before he can think better of it; they go chest to chest, hip to hip, cock to—cock and Mark’s handling it, Mark’s great, Mark’s fine, Mark’s doing perfectly. “Hyung, that’s so awkward,” he whines in a mix of both languages. “Literally don’t do that. I’ll do it. I’ll just—”

He puts a hand underneath Johnny’s thigh and urges his leg to bend, lets it hook around his own hips. He’s… not thinking about the position they’re in now, how it’s getting significantly harder to remember how to speak, let alone breathe, when all Mark wants to do is roll Johnny face down and give it to him. They’re going to do this face to face. Johnny’s not an omega, and he’s not made for that. Mark can’t just put it in. Mark needs to prepare.

Johnny’s expression has gone unreadable and his chest is moving so fast Mark should maybe be worried, but he’s keeping his leg around Mark’s waist, and he’s not pulling away.

Mark looks down at where they’re pressed together and swallows. “Oh my fucking God,” he says.

Johnny laughs. “I’ll say,” he says.

Mark kisses him. It’s hot and wet and good and has absolutely none of the earlier panic. Mark doesn’t know where the lube has gone. Mark… _doesn’t know where the lube has gone_. Mark needs to figure out _where the lube has gone_.

Mark pulls out of the kiss and breathes hard.

Johnny sprawls back against the pillow and does the same. “Lube?”

Mark nods, finds the bottle, and gets it all over his fingers. Mark pauses. Mark shifts between Johnny’s thighs and tries to figure out how to start. Should he. Should he just—put it in?

“Mark?” Johnny sounds a little pained, and Mark hasn’t even put anything in his ass.

“Yes?” Wow, Mark’s voice has gone squeaky and high.

“Are you still—”

“I’m _totally_ fine, Hyung, please,” says Mark, and… puts a finger at the furl of Johnny’s asshole. It’s dripping wet with lube. Mark swallows. “Um.”

Johnny isn’t looking at him but is instead staring at the ceiling. “Yes?”

“It’s possible I’ve used too much lube?”

“Yes, well, given the size of your dick, Mark,” says Johnny, and shifts his hips down the bed so that the tip of Mark’s index finger almost goes into him.

Mark yelps, a panicked, automatic response that probably does nothing to assure Johnny of his lack of panic, and before Johnny can try to baby him _again_ , shoves the rest of that finger into him. And then. Mark has a finger inside of Johnny, and Mark just might _die_.

“Mark?” Johnny’s got an odd look on his face—not pain, but not quite pleasure either. Just. Mark might compare it to constipation, but that is _really_ not where he wants to be going with this. He has a horrible thought.

“You did shower, right—”

“Mark, we had rehearsal for three hours,” Johnny says. “Of course I did—”

“Good, great, of course you did, sorry,” interrupts Mark loudly, debating if he needs still more lube. He still hasn’t managed to do more than put in one finger. Even the thought of wiggling it is a lot.

“You are so bad at foreplay,” says Johnny.

Mark tries to glare at him. “Like you’re any better—”

“Mark, contrary to company policy, I have actually had a girlfriend,” says Johnny. “I have put fingers inside someone—fingers plural—”

“Okay!” Mark finally gets the courage to move his index finger, crooking it like he’s definitely read online. Aren’t guys supposed to have some spot, somewhere? Maybe he should have asked Taeyong-hyung before fleeing the elevator. “But, uh, plural?”

Johnny looks between Mark’s eyes and Mark’s dick pointedly.

“Right—how many?” asks Mark.

Johnny appears to think, hissing when Mark stops thinking too hard about it and lets his body move how it wants, lets his mouth fall open and drag air in past the roof of his mouth. Johnny smells _hot_ , and Mark can’t wait to knot him.

Fuck.

Mark’s going to _knot_ him.

“Hyung?” He’s just sort of watching his index finger fuck in and out of Johnny’s ass on some sort of horrible loop. “How many fingers?”

“Fou—fuck—four,” says Johnny, starting to go a little pink across the chest. He’s also starting to shift in the bed, hips twisting, fingers worrying the sheets and the blankets. Mark wonders suddenly if his toes are curling—that happens in the movies, in books.

“Four?” he says. He thinks about his knot, how large it gets, how Johnny isn’t built to take _any knot_ without help, let alone Mark’s. He swallows.

“I’m pretty sure five would make you pass out,” says Johnny.

Mark puts in a second finger totally not on purpose because of his sudden panic, but instead of yelling at him, Johnny shuts his eyes and swears, long and furtively in English. Mark looks down and tries to see what’s different. He can’t believe he has two fingers moving in and out of Johnny. He can’t believe he’s somehow going to have his cock moving in and out of Johnny. He needs to add more lube. He adds more lube.

Johnny curses, eyes opening, and glares down at Mark with an odd mix of amusement and pleasure. “Fuck! Mark,” he says, laughing. “It’s cold!”

Mark looks down at where he’s spilled a generous amount of lube all over his hand and most of Johnny’s taint, and feels bad. “Sorry.” It smells a lot stronger like this, and he supposes it kind of does resemble watermelon. Unfortunately, Mark’s love of watermelon isn’t a secret to even their fandom, and he’d really rather not develop an even more embarrassing reaction to the stuff because of like… association. Mark should just use it all up. He squeezes the bottle again.

Johnny’s laughing more than anything else now. “Mark,” he says. “Don’t you think you’re using way too much?”

“No.” Mark curves both of his fingers up and stares, finally feeling like he’s getting the hang of it now. He doesn’t think he’s hit that spot, because Johnny still looks a little uncomfortable, but he’s got to be doing better than before. “Now—three?” He works his ring finger up against the other two on an upstroke, and pauses, waiting.

“Three,” Johnny agrees, panting in earnest now. “And—fuck—do you think you could try making it good for me too, now?”

Mark blinks. “Too?” he says. He presses all three fingers in.

Johnny groans, shuts his eyes, and does something with his muscles that has him clenching down around Mark.

Mark feels his breath hitch, the air in the room suddenly going very hot. He’s going to have… that… around his cock. Around his knot. Mark’s a virgin and he’s never met an omega he wanted to put his dick in before, but like, he can’t imagine it could be that much better.

“Mark?”

Mark startles and accidentally pulls his fingers apart a little, making Johnny yelp and kick his legs against the bed.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Mark says, not pulling out because Johnny’s clenching down hard again. “Sorry! Hyung! I—”

“Keep going,” Johnny says breathlessly, not looking away from the ceiling. “Give me another—”

“You’re not ready,” Mark decides, testing the give of Johnny’s ass a little and talking out of his own. “You’re—” Johnny seems to relax and the next few glides of Mark’s fingers go so smoothly it’s like… like Johnny’s not a beta. “You’re not, are you?”

“Am,” Johnny says, panting some more. His sentence comes out in aroused pieces. “But. Please. Mark. Prostate?”

“The prostate,” Mark breathes, finally remembering the English word. “Yes, right.” He thinks it’s got to be… there… maybe.

Johnny’s lips twist and he looks a little pained.

Or not. Mark should have looked into this more extensively. “Am I doing this wrong?” he says. “I’m doing this wrong. Fuck. Hyung. You should have done this yourself.” He tries to pull out and Johnny shakes his head against the pillows, reaches down with one hand to hold Mark by the wrist and keep him from doing so.

“No,” he says, and it’s a shout.

Mark blinks, so shocked he’s silent.

“No,” Johnny says again, considerably less loudly this time. Then he looks apologetic. “No—I—I’m sorry. If you’re not okay we don’t need to.”

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Mark says in Korean, moving his fingers despite the grip Johnny has on his wrist and pressing up, up and _up_. “Stop treating me like a baby when you’re letting me fuck you.”

Johnny’s grip on Mark’s wrist goes so tight Mark worries he’s going to lose his entire hand. “ _Fuck_ , Mark, _fuck_ ,” he swears. “Fuck. Fuck. There. There.”

Mark tries to repeat the action looking frantically between Johnny’s face and where his fingers are disappearing into Johnny like that’ll help. “There?” he says. “There? There? There?”

Johnny lets go of Mark’s wrist and lifts his hand above his own head, drops it across his face and then bites on his own forearm. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says again, long and drawn out, not looking at Mark. Then, “ _No_ ,” he adds.

Mark is a failure. “Oh,” he says, stilling. He waits a moment, then continues, “Sorry.”

Johnny drags his hand down his face, pulling down his lower lip until it snaps back into place. “It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. This is about you.”

That doesn’t make Mark feel any better. He looks away from his hand and towards Johnny’s cock. It’s only half hard. He looks down at his own. It’s all the way hard, knot throbbing, because of course it is.

Mark is the worst. “Sorry.”

Johnny waves a hand. “’s fine,” he says, addressing the ceiling. Then he finally looks at Mark and smiles. “This is about you, not me.”

Mark doesn’t think that’s very fair. “Hyung,” he says disapprovingly.

Johnny shifts against his hand. “Give me another,” he says, clearly not about to let Mark press the issue.

Mark sighs, but wiggles in his pinky after only a mild pause. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Johnny’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, a furrow between his brow, and is now working his hips in swivels. “Huh?” he says.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” repeats Mark.

“Yeah.” Johnny’s got sweat beading at his hairline and his cheeks seem perpetually flushed. “Yeah. It’ll work. It’s always worked before.”

Mark pauses. “Have you—” His throat clogs, and he coughs to clear it. “Have you slept with other alphas?”

Johnny shoots him an annoyed look. “That’s really none of your business, Mark.”

Mark begs to differ. “I have four fingers up your ass,” he says, and punctuates his words with a curl of all four.

Johnny goes boneless against the bed again and groans, eyes shut. “Mark, if you just—there— _fuck_!” The curse comes out loud as Mark apparently once again finds and then loses his prostate for the second time. “I don’t see how my sexual history is any business of yours.”

Mark keeps fucking his fingers in and out. “Well then where are your condoms?” he says.

There’s a beat.

Johnny creaks open an eye. “Oh my God,” he says.

Mark blinks. “Hyung—”

Johnny tries to sit up, nearly pulling Mark’s fingers free. “Oh my God, Mark, you put your hands in me and we haven’t even. I’m clean,” he says. “I swear, I don’t. I haven’t dated anyone since we debuted—I can have Manager-hyung send you the results of my latest check up—”

“Hyung,” Mark says. “I don’t think you’re going to give me an STI.”

Johnny finally stops trying to sit up. “You don’t?”

“No,” Mark says. He doesn’t laugh, although he wants to. “I was just joking. Badly, clearly. Hyung we’re both men, and you’re not an omega. We don’t need condoms.”

Johnny flops down against the bed and lets out a great gust of air. “You’re bad for my heart, Mark Lee,” he mumbles finally. For some reason, Mark feels like he means that differently than it comes out, but he doesn’t have time to think about it too hard.

“Sorry,” he says. He crooks his fingers again.

Johnny hums. “I’m ready,” he says.

Mark doesn’t pull his fingers free, but he does stop moving. He can’t quite bring himself to continue. He can’t quite bring himself to… put his dick in Johnny. He has to put his dick in Johnny. He has to know it’s possible, has to get this out of his system so they can go to their fanmeeting tomorrow and Mark won’t be a complete disaster.

He is a disaster.

“Mark?”

Mark can’t ask Johnny to do this for him. He thinks Johnny wouldn’t let him, would try to make it into something they never have to speak about again, and Mark… Mark doesn’t want that. Johnny is such a good person, the best person, and he’s doing this as like. As a favor to Mark. Mark can’t back out now. He pulls his hand free. He breathes.

He puts both hands on his dick, bypasses the swell of his knot, and swallows. “Look, maybe we should use condoms—”

“I don’t have alpha ones,” Johnny snaps, quick and to the point. “Mark, come on, I’ll shower after—”

“Oh gross, Hyung, Jaehyun-hyung was doing that last week—”

“Mark-yah,” Johnny says loudly in Korean. “I know it’s Jaehyun’s fault we’re doing this in the first place but if you could refrain from talking about him when I’m in bed, that’d be great.”

Mark narrows his eyes. “Do you have a thing for Jaehyun-hyung?” he says.

Johnny is shocked silent. “Do I _what_?” he says.

Mark lifts his chin. “What? Why else wouldn’t you want to talk about him? I bet you were his first kiss too.”

“Yeah, no, no way I was going to touch that with a ten foot pole,” says Johnny, laughing. “Taeyongie would have _killed me—_ ”

Mark blinks, thinking about that. “Taeyong-hyung was Jaehyun-hyung’s first kiss?” he says.

Johnny doesn’t respond.

That’s answer enough. “That explains so much of ‘Cherry Bomb’ promotions.”

Johnny shifts guiltily on the bed. “Aw, Mark, no you can’t tell him I told you.”

Mark has the terrible urge to kiss him. He thinks he could but doesn’t know if he should. “No, of course, Johnny-hyung,” he says. “Of course.” _It’ll be our little secret_ , Mark thinks. _Like this entire night, probably. We’re not telling anybody; who’d believe us?_ “Right, well,” he says instead. “I won’t mention Jaehyun-hyung if you stop doing things he does.”

There a beat.

Johnny starts to roll over.

Mark grabs him by the hip. “What—”

“Well you said not to do things Jaehyunnie does,” Johnny says. “That includes getting fucked by an alpha dick—”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Mark laughs, and finally positions his cock at Johnny’s asshole.

They both pause.

They meet each other’s eyes.

“Are you going to—”

“Are you okay if I—”

They start talking at almost the same time, stop talking at almost the same time.

“Yeah,” Mark says, and thrusts _in_. He goes a little cross eyed. “Oh—”

Johnny’s staring at the ceiling again, mouth opening and closing. “Yeah—”

Mark’s not sure how, but he manages to keep his hips moving. He shifts so that he’s holding Johnny by one hip, his other hand ending up near Johnny’s head on the pillow. After a pause, after watching Johnny’s fingers clenching in the air, he laces their hands together.

Johnny’s eyes shoot open and he stares at Mark, the blush on his cheeks getting hotter.

Mark feels his own cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing.” Johnny’s voice sounds funny; Johnny’s voice sounds kind of reverent; Johnny’s ass is gripping Mark’s cock, hot and hard and _good_. “’Kay, knot me,” Johnny says.

Mark looks down. His dick throbs, seemingly in time to the thrust of his hips. If he cranes his neck he can see his own knot, red and swollen-looking at the base of his dick. He doesn’t have the experience to know what that means, when he’ll need to put it in or miss his window of opportunity, but he also knows better than to think he’ll be able to come out of the gate his first time with perfect stamina. Already Mark can feel his control slipping, the shake in his arms, his fingers. He and Johnny are still holding hands.

“I—” Mark says. “Are you sure?”

Johnny glowers at him.

“Sorry!” Mark says again. “Sorry, Hyung, sorry!”

“That’s not sexy, Mark!” Johnny says. “You apologizing is actually the worst boner killer!”

Mark had actually forgotten about Johnny’s cock, and now he feels even worse—and even more like he needs to apologize. He doesn’t, somehow, but that’s only because he bites hard on his own tongue.

“I can smell you bleeding, Mark!” Johnny says.

Mark wonders if that’s because they’re having sex, since Johnny is proven near-scent blind. He stops biting his tongue and doesn’t say he’s sorry. He still doesn’t put his knot in.

“I just,” he starts, starting to shake a little from keeping up the pace. “I worry—"

“Mark, if you don’t buck up and knot me I’m going to _murder you_ and throw your body in the Han River—I’ll weigh you down with stones—no one will find your body for _weeks—_ ”

“Oh my God,” says Mark, then continues, breathlessly, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—Hyung—” That’s Korean, Mark’s switched into Korean, Mark’s got his knot all the way in Johnny, tight and hot and so good his eyes roll back, Mark’s—Mark’s _coming_ in Korean, curses swirling together like it’s not his second language, and he’s only mildly aware of the fact that he’s going to be embarrassed, when it’s over, because his entire face is pressed up next to Johnny’s and he’s _crying_ , it’s so good, fuck, it’s so, so good.

He shuts his eyes.

He’s clutching Johnny’s hand so hard he worries about permanent circulation problems. He’s still crying, loud and ugly and not at all appropriate for his first time, his first knot. He tries to pull his blubbering face out from where it’s ended up buried in Johnny’s chest. “Sorry,” he says again. It comes out muffled and wet sounding.

Johnny doesn’t even try to pull their hands apart, and uses his other hand to pat Mark hard on the head. It’s more like a slap than comfort, but Mark can’t blame him. He’s got his knot inside Johnny. Like. All the way inside Johnny. Every so often Mark will breathe or shift and he’ll have to close his eyes because he’s still coming, long and hard and making Mark’s toes curl.

“There there,” says Johnny in English. “See.” His voice sounds odd, and Mark realizes his hair is probably in his mouth. “You did it.”

Mark makes a noise that is a mix between a laugh and more sobs. “I did do it,” he says. Johnny twitches, and Mark stifles another tiny orgasm by biting him on the chest. “Oops.” He releases.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mark continues to rest his entire weight across Johnny. “So, uh,” he says. “How long—”

“Mark, please,” says Johnny, sounding incredibly patient. “I would still like to come.”

There is a very pregnant pause.

Mark lifts his head, looks Johnny in the eye for the first time, and then lets go of Johnny’s hand so he can try to mop up the mess on his face. Then he tries to mop up the mess he’s made of Johnny’s chest. Then he tries to sit up farther, and gets stopped by Johnny’s hands on his ass.

“Nope, no, Mark, literally not what you’re supposed to do when you knot a beta—”

Mark’s mouth drops open in despair. “Oh no—”

“Nope, no Mark, literally _no more panicking—_ or _apologizing—_ I’m telling you. It’s not sexy—”

“Johnny-hyung,” says Mark. “Johnny-hyung, I’m—”

Johnny puts a hand over Mark’s mouth, shifts around on the bed, draws both legs up so he can hold Mark in place, and reaches behind his head with his other hand. He comes back with his phone.

Mark tries to say the words, “Johnny-hyung?” into the hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” Johnny says. “I’m looking up how long it usually takes for a knot to go down.”

Mark makes an agreeable sound. That’s a good idea.

Johnny keeps his hand over Mark’s mouth almost absently, and then lets go so he can better hold his phone.

Mark watches him type, wondering if it’d be a problem if he tried to look and see. He probably shouldn’t move. He looks instead down at Johnny’s cock, which is still kind of hard, but not all the way. He feels kind of bad. “Should I—”

“No.” Johnny doesn’t even look up from the phone. “It says like fifteen minutes,” he adds. “Oh, it’s Donghyuckie and Doyoung. They want to know if they can come home. I’ll tell them yes in half an hour.”

Mark blinks. “You’re… texting?”

“I’m telling them you cried,” Johnny continues. “We hugged it out and you’re over it. But I’ll also tell Taeyong to reign Jaehyun in.”

Mark… has no idea what to say to any of that. “Thanks?”

Johnny keeps typing on his phone, letting his legs down from Mark’s hips. “I’m glad I was able to help you out, Mark,” he says, still without making any eye contact.

Mark blinks some more. Then he realizes he ought to respond. “Oh, yes,” he says.

His knot goes down in under ten minutes, and then he and Johnny each use the shower, before taking the sheets off Johnny’s bed and running them in the laundry machine before Doyoung-hyung and Donghyuck can get back. Mark goes back to his bed on the top floor, surprisingly not feeling all that different, despite not being a virgin.

The next day is a little weird, but Johnny acts no differently when they’re backstage at their fanmeeting. They trade barbs and Johnny hits Mark with “I wish Mark would only be happy.” Mark stumbles through some bullshit about how he may cry. Yuta-hyung gives Mark shit for his Korean Air CF. Nothing really seems to change.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, NCT 127 is in the practice room working on their Gayo stage. They’ve been given cameras and told to film stuff for a daily video, and Mark is doing his best to do so. Taeyong-hyung and Taeil-hyung are terrifying, and Donghyuck is on a crusade to kiss as many of them on camera as possible. During their “Superhuman” rehearsal, Johnny grabs Mark around the neck with his hat pulled down over his eyes, plants his feet, and before Mark can blink has his entire arm around Mark’s neck. Mark manages to stop pulling back and puts his arm right around him, put his head into Johnny’s shoulder and holds him, while Taeyong-hyung makes a fuss and the rest of them break formation.

When they break apart Mark and Johnny are both laughing. Taeyong-hyung signals for their dance teacher to turn off the music, but Mark only has eyes for Johnny. “What was that for?”

“You’re going to do the real choreography on Friday?” Johnny pulls off his hat so he can fluff his hair, and then puts it back on.

Mark licks his lips but doesn’t commit. He wants to—that’s his goal for 2020, underneath wishing for his family’s continued health and happiness for all of his members.

Johnny doesn’t comment, but he does point dramatically at Mark. “You’ll do it for at least one of the end of year shows,” he says.

Mark grins back, finally starting to feel like they’re okay. “Yeah, sure, Hyung,” he says.

He didn’t do it for SBS Gayo Daejeon, but he does manage it for KBS Gayo Daechukje and MBC Gayo Daejejeon.

As they’re coming off stage during the pre-recording on December 31, Johnny nudges Mark in the side. “Hey,” he says, meeting Mark’s eyes. “Are you better now?”

Mark snorts and shoves him back, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He’s sweating green again, and it’s kind of gross. He rolls his eyes.

Johnny keeps grinning at him. “I mean, you couldn’t do it for literally the entire tour.”

Mark shakes his hair again, closing his eyes to avoid the splatter of sweat. “You know what, I guess I am,” he says. They’re led back through the maze of the venue towards the backstage.

Johnny looks at him curiously.

“I’m ‘better,’ now, or whatever,” says Mark. “And you and I are—okay, right?”

Johnny’s mouth opens but Mark keeps going.

“Like nothing has to change just because we—” He pauses and waves his hand. “You know.”

“Had sex,” says Johnny, just as they’re all the way backstage and no one could overhear.

Mark laughs, honestly amused instead of flustered. “Yeah, that.”

He pulls his in-ears out and stops to let staff start to take off his mic pack. “But things aren’t going to be weird because of that, right?” he says. “Like, between us. You’re still going to be my Chicago-hyung?”

Johnny pulls his own in-ears out, and seems to take a moment to compose himself. Mark gets it. They’ve done the end of year programs three years in a row now, but they’re still really emotional. It’s the end of the _decade_.

“Always,” says Johnny, and bumps his fist against Mark’s.

Mark grins, then walks off to change into plain clothes.

After the live show, they do a spontaneous V LIVE for the fans, with Dream. It’s Jisung’s first after-ten-broadcast and Taeyong-hyung gets forced to wink for the cameras because he didn’t when he got caught on stage. Mark bounces Renjun on his lap, talks when talked to, and doesn’t notice that Johnny is all the way on the other side of the room.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~/flees I promise there's gonna be more it's a trilogy and I have BIG PLANS.~~
> 
> To everyone who read this before I realized I'd forgotten about the Transmedia Boom 18 NCT Dream schedule on December 14, please pretend I didn't perform frantic timeline surgery on this fic to remove Haechan from an ENTIRE SCENE that is NOT WHO I AM— 
> 
> Share the fic: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/1219351417196097536?s=20)  
> Share this fic: [Tumblr](https://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/190401225530/regular)  
> Read the primer: [Tumblr](https://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau)


End file.
